


Learning To Fly

by BadassCompany



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Sex, Angel Wings, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bunker Sex, Canon Compliant, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel's Wings, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Classic Rock, Comfort, Confessions of love, Cuddling, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Emotions, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Existential Crisis, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Impala Sex, Learning to be Human, Loss of Control, Love, M/M, Marathon Sex, Masturbation, Meaningful sex, Multiple Orgasms, Occasional Bottom Dean, Occasional Top Castiel, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Porn with Feelings, Profound Bond, Profound Dirty Talk, Rimming, Sex, Sex While Floating, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Snowball Fights, Switching, The Meaning of Life, Use of Angelic Grace, Valentine's Day, Winchester Christmas, destiel smut, magical sex, man tears, masturbation!kink, resolved angst, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 90,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadassCompany/pseuds/BadassCompany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken man and angel learn to fly. It started off with Dean teaching Cas about classic rock - because what better to cure an existential crisis? Then it was long drives, alcohol, saving people, how to pack a good snowball, and eventually sex and love. Dean and Castiel learn to be together after crashing into love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Learning To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter has a song, check the notes at the top for the link. Happy reading :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Learning To Fly  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WowZLe95WDY

Chapter One - Learning To Fly

_Well it started out down a dirty road_

_Started out all alone_

Dean came upon the angel one Thursday afternoon, sitting against the trunk of a tree. Crying. Dean was transfixed by the sight, so unexpected, so strangely intimate. He swallowed. He was intruding in every way. But how could he leave Cas like this, alone in the cold January air? The angel's arms shook even as he wrapped them around his knees. Tears slid down Castiel's face. His blue eyes stared up at the stark gray sky, as if he was desperately searching for something. Never had he seen Cas look so openly broken.

_And the sun went down as it crossed the hill_

Eventually, Cas lifted a trembling hand to wipe at his cheeks, running the other through his hair. A few dead leaves had fallen in it. Dean wondered just how long he'd sitting in the woods outside the bunker. A harsh laugh startled him out of his thoughts. Castiel stared straight at him, face twisted even as he laughed. He sighed, and turned to watch the ground nonchalantly. Dean didn't recall walking the ten paces that had separated them, but he stood above Cas, puzzling at the ache in his own chest that started when he realized he had not a damn clue why Cas was crying. _Maybe if I was a normal dude, I'd know why he was crying._ Dean knelt down, surveying the trees before him. They looked like they were just barely holding on. _Maybe if he wasn't an angel, I'd know why he was crying._ Damn, it was cold. _Maybe, if I'd asked how he was in the last month, I'd know._ He bit his lip.

_And the town lit up, the world got still_

"Cas, buddy..." He let the words trail off and turn into mist, hanging in the air between them.

"I, ah... I don't know what to say. I didn't intend for you to... find me." Cas' voice was ragged and Dean wondered briefly if he'd been screaming.

"Do you want to be alone?" Dean asked in a low voice.

_I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings_

He could feel Cas' glistening eyes on him, turning the suggestion over in his mind. "No."

_Coming down is the hardest thing_

"All right then." Dean settled down against the tree trunk, his shoulder pressing against Cas'. There were a few moments of comfortable silence, in which Dean stopped to marvel at how strange his life was.

_Well the good old days may not return_

"I've done so many bad things. All for the right reasons, I thought. I think. I chose humanity over heaven and you over everything in between." Dean's eyes met his, wide in shock. "It's true," the angel continued without missing a beat. "And after all of it, the sacrifice, the mistakes, the blood, I know what I was fighting for. But I don't understand it. And I think I lost myself along the way."

_And the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn_

Dean closed his eyes. The song was different, but the bass line was the same. What Cas was saying sounded all too familiar. "You know, a so-called friend of yours once said the moment you laid a hand on me in hell, you were lost."

_I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings_

_Coming down is the hardest thing._

Cas shrugged ever so slightly. "Maybe. But I realized there was something _worth_ fighting for. And we fought again, and again. The world's... relatively safe, not that I can really claim credit for that. I've been human. I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I had sex, I got stabbed. Maybe that's when I realized I had no clue what it's really about. Humanity. I've been observing for millenia, fighting with you and your brother for the last few years, and I'm not any closer to understanding what we fight for. I'm not a human, Dean. I don't feel things like a human does." Cas' intense stare made Dean swallow his objections.

_Some say life will beat you down_

_Break your heart and steal your crown_

"I do... feel things, though. Angels don't, not really. That's why Anna chose to fall. I'm not really an angel, or if I am, I'm fallen. Broken, maybe. Dean, what am I?" His voice cracked and a tear welled up in his left eye.

_So I started out for God knows where_

_Guess I’ll know when I get there_

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder. _All the things I never knew._ "You're Castiel. You're the only friend I got left. You're not broken. You're just... learning to fly."

_I’m learning to fly around the clouds_

_But what goes up must come down_

Dean wasn’t sure what sparked the Tom Petty reference, but it seemed to strike a chord with Cas. “Look, man. I can’t claim to know much about… well, anything to do with feelings. But if you like, I can teach you what I know about being human.” Cas’ chin lifted slightly. “I’m not good at it, by any stretch. But maybe it’ll help you figure out… stuff.” He trailed off lamely.

_I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings_

_Coming down is the hardest thing_

“Dean, I’d like that.” Castiel offered a small smile.

_I’m learning to fly around the clouds_

_What goes up must come down_

“All right then.” Dean stood, offering Cas a hand up. Once he’d pulled Cas to his feet, he coughed. Cas was staring at him with his head cocked to one side, hand still clasped in Dean’s. Dean laughed lightly before extracting his hand from the angel’s grip. Cas probably wasn’t familiar with being helped up or something. “What say we get you inside, huh?” Dean asked, absent mindedly picking leaves out of Cas’ hair. He ran a thumb along Cas’ cheekbone, erasing the tear that had sat there a moment before. “Come on,” he said suddenly. Cas followed him down the hill slowly.

_I’m learning to fly,_

_I’m learning to fly._

 

 


	2. Ramble On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean introduced Cas to Led Zeppelin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Led Zeppelin - Ramble On  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdiN0sW-wVU

“All right. First thing’s first,” Dean said the next morning. “The most important thing about being human is music.” Dean scraped his omelet out of the pan. He’d slept fitfully, his waking periods plagued by the fact that he was pretty sure he could hear footsteps on the roof above him. He smiled though, despite the bags under his eyes. The burnt eggy mess on his plate was just evidence of how distracted his was. Nomally, he was the Martha Stewart of the hunting world. Which was not a sentence he’d ever imagined applying to him.

He realized Cas was waiting for him to continue, looking slightly confused. Then again, he always looked that way. “No matter what’s going on, if you’ve got the right music, you can make it better. Driving with music is the perfect combination. Feels like you’re flying. But we’ll leave that for later. Now,” he said shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth, “Led Zeppelin are the end all, be all of classic rock. Got it?”

Cas nodded. “Led Zeppelin. All right.”

“My Dad used to play them all the time in the car. When he’d leave me and Sammy alone, sometimes I’d sneak one of his cassettes out of the impala so I could play them on the hotel stereo.” Cas smiled. “Everyone in the band is a friggin genius. Come on, I’ll play some for you.”

Cas followed him into one of the disused rooms, in which Dean had put an old casette deck he’d picked up from a thrift store while Sam was off somewhere, probably reading a demon dictionary or something. Dean had put way too much thought into what song he was going to play for Cas, to be totally honest. He’d immediately thought of Houses of the Holy, but wasn’t sure how it’d go over. Finally, after absent mindedly biting his lip until it almost bled, he’d decided. “This is one of my favorite songs. Thought maybe you could relate.”

Castiel leaned against the wall, sunlight falling across his face and chest. Dean pressed play and waited as the sound of strings being softly strummed filled the room.

_Leaves are falling all around_

_Time I was on my way_

_Thanks to you, I’m much obliged_

_For such a pleasant stay_

Castiel was staring out the window, perfectly still as they listened. Dean knew he was staring, but hey, someone losing their Led Zeppelin virginity was an important event. He cracked a smile.

_But now it’s time for me to go_

_The autumn moon lights my way_

_Now I smell the rain and with it pain_

_And it’s heading my way_

_Sometimes I grow so tired_

_But I know I got one thing I gotta do_

A small change came across Cas’ face, and Dean wondered what he was thinking about.

_I ramble on_

_Now is the time the time is now_

_I sing my song_

_Going round the world gotta find my girl_

_On my way_

_I’ve been this way ten years to the day_

_Ramble on_

_Find the queen of all my dreams_

He thought he knew Cas pretty well, I mean hell, they’d been through Purgatory together. But when he remembered that Cas had been alive since the beginning of universe, he realized how totally out of his depth he was trying to help Cas.

_Got no time for spreading roots_

_The time has come to be gone_

_And to our health we drank a thousand times_

_It’s time to ramble on_

I mean, the angel could be anywhere, doing anything. And somehow he was standing next to Dean Winchester, listening to classic rock.

_Mine’s a tale that can’t be told_

_My freedom I hold dear_

_How years ago in days of old when magic ruled the air_

_In the darkest depths of Mordor I met a girl so fair_

_But Gollum and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her_

_I got nothing I can do, no_

“Dean,” Castiel said slowly.

“Yeah?” Dean blinked, jerked out of his thoughts.

“Isn’t that a reference to Lord of the Rings?” Cas asked.

Dean laughed. “Yeah. Hey, when did you become Mr. Pop Culture again? I never did have time to ask.”

“Oh. Metatron did it to me.” Dean frowned. “He was frustrated when I didn’t understand his literary metaphors,” Cas explained further.

“Huh.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, hoping Cas didn’t remember the time he’d compared them to Thelma and Louise. “Yeah. Zeppelin were big on fantasy. Lucky them that they didn’t know most of it’s real.”

Cas suddenly looked very concerned. “I’ve never encountered a ringwraith, Dean. Are you sure?”

“Not Lord of the Rings.” Dean groaned. “I meant demons and angels.”

“Oh.”

_I guess I’ll keep rambling_

_I’m gonna sing my song, gonna find my baby_

_I’m gonna ramble on, sing my song_

_Work my way around the world_

_I can feel it in my heart, baby baby baby_

_I’m gonna ramble on_

“So?” Dean asked as he switched off the cassette player. “Don’t compare it to religion somehow, you already ruined Wile E. Coyote.”

Castiel nodded. “It… speaks to me somehow.” Dean smiled, figuring that was the highest praise he’d get. “It’s difficult to explain,” Cas said. “But as an angel, I can sense the… essence of things. With people, it’s their soul, and I get a similar sense with music. Dean, that song,” he paused, “reminds me of you.” He ended simply.

“Of my soul?” Dean asked blankly.

“Yes.” Cas said matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Dean realized that, at this point, he was never going to teach the angel to stop staring so much. He’d gotten used to feeling Castiel’s blue eyes on him, pretty much all the time. Dean cleared his throat. “Right.”

“But I don’t quite understand. The reason he’s travelling all over is to find the girl of his dreams? Someone he loves, something like that?” Cas squinted in the suddenly bright sunlight.

“Well… I guess.” Dean had never really thought about it much.

“Is that more important than anything else?”

“How the hell would I know?” Damn, he could’ve sworn he actually saw Cas flinch. “I just mean… I don’t know. I don’t think it’s more important than other stuff, no. But I guess there’s this idea that once you find the right person then everything falls into place.”

Cas’ frown deepened. “That’s not true.”

Dean laughed. “You’re right. It’s utter bullcrap. But I guess it’s just one of those things you tell yourself to keep going.” Dean didn’t know any word other than wistful to describe the look on Cas’ face.

“It’s a nice idea.” Castiel admitted.

“Yeah.” Dean tapped his fingers against the table. “You wanna hear the rest of the album?”

“Of course.” Dean smiled and nodded, before pressing play. He’d been worried about this, because how the hell could he help an angel having an existential crisis? But this felt good. An unfamiliar kind of good, sure, but it was still good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love it if y'all let me know what you think, this fic is my new baby :)


	3. Blue Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hot day in the bunker when Cas is thinking about butterflies and Dean is playing the Allman Brothers Band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue Sky - The Allman Brothers Band  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wwyXQn9g40I

Sammy was away for a few weeks. He’d said he was checking out a case, but Dean knew he’d called a certain pretty yet badass deaf girl a few days back. They’d run into Eileen again on one of their hunts, and Dean figured Sam musta worked the whole nerd puppy dog eyes on her. He took a swig of his cool beer and wiped sweat from his brow. After a hundred years, the air conditioning in the bunker had finally broken. It was sweltering outside and inside. He had his feet up on the table, staring up at the never-ending bookshelves. Not for the first time that day, he was wondering where Cas was. It’d been curiously peaceful the past few days. The angel spent most of his time exploring the bunker, occasionally dunking himself into a book and not emerging for hours. Sometimes he asked Dean to put on Led Zeppelin. Dean smiled. He wouldn’t admit it to save his life, but he happened to have made a certain mixtape for Castiel, which he put on whenever Cas asked. Cas liked the acoustic Led Zeppelin stuff, with the strings and the emotional stuff. Weird angel.

There were moments when he came across Cas, staring into space somewhere. He looked sad. Mostly, though, the past week reminded him of lazy summer days in a motel room in California, where Sam and him had stayed inside all day, drinking lemonade to keep cool. Hey, that was even before Dean would’ve poured a bottle of rum into it. He didn’t want to admit it, because the second he did, something would get horribly fucked up, but he was happy.

“Cas?” He called out. The angel was free to go wherever he wanted, of course. Try putting a leash on a confused celestial being. But in his longer absences, Dean started to worry that Cas had found his way into one of the more dangerous storage rooms. The Men of Letters basically had a demon sex dungeon, who knew what else they had down there? Dean wandered the halls, squinting his eyes. Sunlight glinted off the wood. Man, he really wasn’t used to this place in summer. “Cas!”

“Hello Dean,” came the gravelly, familiar reply. Dean spun around before seeing the door to his left. Cas was kneeling on the floor with his back to Dean.

“Man, aren’t you hot in that?” When Cas turned around, doing his usual confused eye squint, Dean gestured a little too fervently at his coat. “Y’know, the trench.”

“I told you before, I can regulate my vessel’s body temperature.” Cas sighed and returned his attention to whatever he was turning over in his hands.

“Wait, so you’ve never been hot or cold? Felt like you’d get blown away on a windy day?” When Cas didn’t reply, Dean said, “I mean you are pretty skinny.”

“Only when I was human. I can’t really remember. And I believe I’m actually of average stature for a man of my height, taking into consideration bone and muscle mass.”

“Muscle mass, huh?” Dean slid down to the floor, looking around the room. It was tiny, with stone walls and the usual weapons dotted on the shelves. If anything, they looked a little bare. “Whatever.” He took another sip of his beer. Cas didn’t seem particularly chatty.

Going on his knees, he crouched behind Cas, peering over the angel’s trench coat. He was rewarded with a glare. “Come on, what’s so interesting? Found another 1940’s copy of Busty Asian Beauties?”

“I don’t understand your preoccupation with breast size,” Cas said, turning something over in his hands.

“Wait a minute. Is that…” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Well, I guess you never really had a nerdy kid phase, maybe you’re due.”

“There’s nothing nerdy about it. It’s a butterfly, Dean.” Cas sighed in a way Dean could describe no other way than _sassy_.

“Uh, yeah.” He clutched his beer like a lifeline to normality, where angels weren’t looking at dead butterflies in glass.

“You think I’m being foolish.” Dean didn’t say anything. Cas tilted his head and swallowed, eyes still firmly fixed on the encased butterfly in his hands. “It was alive. A long time ago. And now it’s dead. And… I don’t know what I think about that.”

Well, didn’t he just feel like the world’s biggest dick. Cas had seen so much blood, fought so many wars. After all of it, he was still fascinated by the idea of a butterfly. It was kind of amazing really. “I get it,” Dean muttered.

“You do?” Dean found himself suddenly confronted with a pair of bright blue eyes and a slight smile.

“Yeah. Well, no. I don’t think about butterflies much, man. But I get that you do. And it’s cool.” God, he was glad Sammy wasn’t around. He wasn’t sure his macho cred would ever recover from saying that thinking about butterflies was cool.

“If no one who wants to kill me catches up to us, I’m going to live forever. Isn’t that strange? Not once in my millennia of existence have I thought that way. Mortal things, they’re born, and they light up like a fire, and they change and make mistakes and they live and they die. I’ll just be here. Watching the universe until it ends, I guess.” Cas let out a soft laugh. “Strange.”

“You did,” Dean said without thinking.

“What?”

Damnit. “When Zachariah zapped me to the future, way back when, all the other angels had left. But you stayed. Stuck with us. You were full on mortal, though. And into some pretty dodgy crap.”

Cas chuckled. “Dodgy crap. I see. Well, I guess Metatron was right. Maybe I am in love with humanity.” He shrugged, before slipping the glass cased butterfly into his trench coat pocket. “You know, one of the Men of Letters studied butterflies. Kept specimens in secret compartments in this room. He was convinced they had humanity.”

“Some of them were pretty whacked out I guess.” Dean bit his lip. “Hey, wait. You’ve got control over your vessel, right?”

“Yes.” Cas shot him a suspicious look.

“Come on.” He dragged Cas up by the arm, only to have the angel snap his fingers. Dean looked around frowning. His cassette tape collection and player were sitting right in front of the window.

“What did you… hey! That was perfectly arranged in the other room.” Dean glared, releasing his grip on Cas.

“I can put it back afterwards. But I figured that was what you wanted.” Cas smirked a little.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered. He spent a few moments searching for the right one. “There you are, baby.” With a click, it slid into the right slot and guitar strings started to ring out. “All right. Go over there, and stand in the sunshine. Just let go.”

_Walk along the river, sweet lullaby_

_It just keeps flowing, it don’t worry about where it’s going, oh no_

Cas walked hesitantly into the square of golden light left by the window. “Man, this song may be about some girl, but it always just… I dunno, makes me smile I guess.”

_Don’t fly Mr. Bluebird, I’m just walking down the road_

_Early mornin’ sunshine, tell me all I need to know_

Cas had his eyes closed, brow bunched up in concentration. Dean drained the rest of his beer and wished he’d brought another.

_You’re my blue sky, you’re my sunny day_

_Lord you know it makes me high when you turn your love my way, turn your love my way, yeah_

“Oh,” Cas said shortly, finally opening his eyes. Sweat was already starting to glisten on his forehead and cheeks. He blinked, letting his eyelids stay closed for longer than seemed decent. “Dean, it’s hot!” He looked so godshonest surprised that Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

_Good old Sunday morning, bells are ringing everywhere_

_Going to Carolina, it won’t be long and I’ll be there_

“Carolina. I wonder if his lover is there,” Cas mused, obviously distracted. He was absorbed in watching the light fall over his hands, smiling when he wiped sweat off his face.

“Maybe.” The word fell softly off his lips, and Cas turned up to look at him then, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. “The air conditioning’s broke,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

_You’re my blue sky, you’re my sunny day_

_Lord you know it makes me high when you turn your love my way_

“I don’t care. Dean, I think summer may be my favorite season.” Cas stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, well I haven’t shown you the other ones yet,” Dean said, only half realizing what he’d just promised. He didn’t care to think too much about anything though, because it was hot and Cas was grinning and sweaty and he was just happy.

_Turn your love my way, yeah_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for your lovely reviews! I think this is my favorite chapter yet.


	4. Bad Moon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bad Moon Rising  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUQiUFZ5RDw

"Come on, Cas!" Sam was coming home tomorrow. Dean took the stairs two at a time as he looked around for Cas. Wherever had the angel gotten to? He'd be happy to have his brother back, but a tiny part of him itched to spend more time with Cas. It'd been the same when Cas had come asking for his help with Raphael and they'd wound up at the brothel. He smiled privately. There was just something about the way things were between them alone that changed when Sammy was there. If Dean had been one for examining feelings, he probably would have said things were more open between them. Lucky for him, he wasn't.

"Cas! Man, where are you?" He spun around, then paused, unsure whether to be confused, alarmed, or laugh his head off. "What are you doing?"

Cas was crouching under the table on his hands and knees. "I can't find my coat." Dean hadn't thought a bashful glare was possible, but that was the exact look Cas directed at him then.

"Um, yeah, about that..." Dean trailed off. "Whatever, you can borrow one of mine. Come on!"

"But Dean, I-"

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas' pained expression. "It's your super special magical trench coat, I get it. I'll help you find it later. I promise."

Cas followed Dean to the car, subdued until Dean held open the shotgun door for him. He practically beamed. Dean sighed, hopped over the hood and slammed the door behind him. He took a moment to run his hands over the steering wheel and feel the cold leather press against his back. "Oh baby, I'm home." He crooned before jerking the key in the ignition.

Cas suddenly stiffened next to him. Dean raised his eyebrows. "You OK there?" He asked after a pause.

"In those songs you played me... I was under the impression that 'baby' was frankly illogical slang for your lover. Were they talking about cars, Dean?" If Dean hadn't been too busy laughing his head off, he might have noticed the soft growl in which Cas always said the word _lover_. He probably didn't know it was outdated and used only by middle-aged women writing romance novels. The way Cas said it was almost charming. But of course, Dean was too busy laughing, and that thought didn't come to him later that night, until he forced the moonlight to blink it away.

"No Cas, you were right the first time. But my car's my baby." Cas nodded, his face a picture of deep understanding. Dean let out a low chuckle.

"All right. Driving at night... and I mean just driving, not because you're rushing to save the world or just got another cut that needs stitched, not because you pissed some girl off and she chucked you outta the house... Just driving. It helps me think. It's just so damn peaceful. I thought it might be up your alley." The engine was still purring. He realized he was waiting for Cas' acquiescence before he started to drive.

"I have been in your car at night before." Dean wasn't sure Cas realized just how dodgy that really sounded.

"Well, this time's gonna be different. No disappearing, either." He drummed his fingers against the wheel.

Cas' smile was gentle. "In that case, I'd like that, Dean."

"All right. Let's go." He clicked the play button on the Impala stereo, and they pulled out onto the road to the choppy sounds of warm guitar.

_I see a bad moon rising_

_I see trouble on the way_

Dean hadn't remembered what casette was in the stereo. He might have picked a less sinister number if he'd thought beyond taking Cas out for a drive, but it worked well enough. Sometimes random accidents were good.

_I see earthquakes and lightning_

_I see bad times today_

"Man, this song. I used to play it when we'd finished a hunt, cause I knew there were worse times coming."

_Don't go round tonight, it's bound to take your life_

"But somehow it always made me feel better. Just knowing that hell yeah, it's bad out there. But we'd made it and even it meant dying a few times, we'd make it again."

_There's a bad moon on the rise_

Dean trailed off, thinking maybe he'd said too much.

"I understand." Castiel offered simply. Music filled the silence between them.

_I hear hurricane's a blowin'_

_I know the end is comin' soon_

He hummed along quietly and turned left when a fork in the road came up. "Where are we going?" Cas enquired.

"I have no clue. Isn't that great?" Dean smiled when he saw Cas' leg thumping along to the beat.

_I fear rivers overflowin'_

_I hear the voice of rage and ruin_

The sky outside was purple. God, he hadn't done enough of this in his lifetime. "Dean, can I roll down the window?" Cas' voice shook like the idea was revolutionary, like he'd never even thought about it before. He probably hadn't. Damn, this angel needed to do some living.

"Course," Dean let out a soft laugh. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, he thought vaguely.

_Well don't go round tonight, well it's bound to take your life_

A startled laugh from Castiel prompted him to turn his neck. The angel was craning his head out the window, wind blowing his hair haphazardly. His smile only dampened for a second as he paused to wipe away the tears that had run from his eyes, staring at them in puzzlement.

"I thought you had control over your vessel," Dean ventured.

"I still have to blink, Dean." His words were half carried away in the wind.

_Hope you got your things together_

_Hope you are quite prepared to die_

Cas pulled his head back into the car, black hair mussed and falling into his eyes. He shivered. By way of explanation, he said, "I wanted to really feel the wind."

"Here. Wear my jacket." Dean pulled his old brown leather jacket off, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. They'd ended up on a twisting mountain road, and it seemed like if they went any higher they might go into the sky.

"Thank you." Castiel studied the jacket a moment before shrugging it over his shoulders. He let out a low hum of approval. Dean eyed him, glad he didn't know that was straight out of every chick flick ever. He didn't want the angel to misunderstand the simple lending of clothes as something else. There was something else to it though; he wanted Cas to have the full experience. And that meant leather jacket, driving in a kickass car listening to Credence, watching the world go by.

_Looks like we're in for nasty weather_

_One eye is taken for an eye_

Castiel had his head back out the window again, looking up at the stars. Dean felt oddly naked without his jacket, but hey, he like that Cas was wearing it. Just cause every guy needed to have worn a leather jacket at least once. He supposed it did look good on Cas, hanging a little big off his shoulders, but that wasn't the point.

The road started to slope down again, and Dean realized it was a loop. A barely warm breeze skimmed his skin from the open window. He sighed, pushing his foot down on the brakes.

_Well don't go round tonight, it's bound to take your life_

_There's a bad moon on the rise_

When he looked over at Cas, the shorter man was staring at him with some unknown expression. He was silent for a few moments, then, "Dean, I like this."

Dean grinned. "Wanna do it again some time?" It was at that exact moment he remembered Cas knew basically every crappy movie ever thanks to Metatron, and most definitely knew what lending someone your jacket hinted at. Way to make your best friend think you're romancing him. Dean knew exactly what Sammy would say - _Well, you are taking him on long drives at night_ \- with a little pursing of his lips. But thing was, Sammy wasn't here. Bitch.

"Yes. I'd like that." Cas ducked his head. Dean knew they were approaching the bunker, and he slowed down almost to a crawl. He rolled his own window down, and let the barely warm breeze flow over him. He closed his eyes.

_Don't go round tonight, y'know it's bound to take your life_

_There's a bad moon on the rise_

When they got back to the bunker, it was fifteen minutes past two. Dean groaned as a way of saying goodnight and fell into bed. Dean made a mental note to give the guy back his trench coat. Hiding it in his trunk had been the only way to get him to wear anything else, though. He drifting off to sleep with guitars playing in his head and an odd image of Cas leaning against the hood of the impala in his leather jacket, looking up at the moon.


	5. When My Blue Moon Turns to Gold Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy introduces Cas to Elvis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to. I just had to.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahixQ4upE5s  
> OK, its not originally an Elvis song, but I somehow felt like Cas would identify with it.

“Elvis?” Dean stared at Sam, jaw not quite functioning. “You got him hooked on Elvis?” After welcoming his brother back with a hug and the usual inquiry if he got laid, Dean had gone out on a beer run. When he returned, Elvis Presley was blasting through the bunker. “Elvis?” He said, as if it might be a new species of monster.

Sam threw his arms up and did his little mouth shrug thing. “Come on, man, you went through your Elvis phase! You were a fanboy. Don’t even try to deny it,” he said when Dean opened his mouth to protest it. “I was there. I could hear you singing All Shook Up in the shower!”

Dean glowered. “I was fourteen.”

Sam smirked. “So you don’t like him anymore.”

“No,” Dean said, waving a hand. “That’s… dorky.”

“Yeah, well don’t tell Cas that. He already knows all the words to Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” Dean stomped past his brother into the room with the cassette player.

“Seriously?” He said, digging through an old cardboard box, falling apart at the corners and chock full of cassettes. “I threw these out years ago!”

“Yeah, well, I-” Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Kept them for you.”

Dean set his jaw. His Elvis phase was a thing firmly of the past. There was no space in his macho hunter vibe for singing Baby, Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear. “I don’t want-”

A new song started up, and Dean turned his head. Was that… Cas singing along?

_Well when my blue moon turns to gold again_

Cas had a surprisingly nice singing voice for someone who’d probably never tried it before this morning. He sang like someone who didn’t know anyone else could hear, and his voice had a strange yet pleasant twang.

_Well when my rainbow turns the clouds away_

Dean’s resolve to trash the cassettes for the second time softened.

_Well when my blue moon turns to gold again_

After all, Cas didn’t know that listening to Elvis was ultimate old dork territory, and Sam had no doubt been too nice to tell him.

_You’ll be back within my arms to stay_

Dean sighed. “They can stay.” His foot was definitely not tapping. He walked off to find Cas, leaving Sam holding a cassette. Following the light singing, he made his way along the corridor. Cas had his back to him and was singing. He knocked on the wall.

“ _Well the memories that linger in my_ -” Cas broke off, turning and offering Dean a smile.

_Heart_

Dean chuckled. “So I hear you’re an Elvis junkie.”

“Yes.” Cas answered in his gravelly voice. “We were talking, and he said we ought to sort some of the old archives out.” He waved a book, which let off a cloud of dust. “But he said I ought to listen to Mr. Presley.” Mr. Presley, my ass, Dean thought. “I’m afraid I don’t understand a great deal of it. But I like it.”

_Memories that makes my heart grow cold_

“Yeah, well…” Dean sighed. “I used to dig Elvis.”

“What happened?” Cas asked, tilting his head to one side.

_Well someday they’re gonna live again in my sweet heart_

Dean shrugged. “Long story. You want a beer?”

Cas smiled and nodded, following him down the hallway. Sam was eating a sandwich by the cooler. He gave Dean and Cas a knowing smile that Dean didn’t like.

_And my blue moon will again turn to gold_

A lot of beers and maybe more than a few whiskeys later, they were in various positions around the table. Dean, sitting with his feet up on it, Sam sitting on it with his knees up, and Cas having turned leant his chair so far backwards he could rest his head on it. They looked pretty damn ridiculous.

“Man, I missed Elvis.” Dean said plaintively.

“He’s so romantic,” Cas waxed lyrical.

“And in such a cheesy way,” Sam grinned. It’d been a long time since the brothers had gotten drunk for fun, he realized. Mostly it was a coping mechanism. It was good for all of them, having Cas at the bunker, he decided.

_Well when my blue moon turns to gold again_

“It’s the simple things in life,” Dean reflected occasionally in unfinished sentences.

While Sam let out a happily tired, “Yeah,” Cas answered, “I believe so.”

_Well when the rainbow turns the clouds away_

They stayed up through the night, Dean telling Cas all the plots of the various Elvis movies. Sam laughed, asking, “You really watched those things?” but then was quiet while Dean talked.

_Well when my blue moon turns to gold again_

“They sound…” Cas frowned, unable to remember the correct word.

“Awful,” Dean laughed.

_You’ll be back within my arms to stay_

When eventually they turned in, it was past two. They’d been through every single Elvis cassette tape Dean had ever owned, including some embarrassingly sentimental mixes. Dean was positive he’d never live this down in the morning.

_Well the memories that linger in my heart_

Dean sat on his bed, kicking off his shoes. “Hey,” Sam said quietly at his door. “You know Cas is on the roof, right?”

“Yeah. He does that.” Dean let out a small, lopsided smile.

“Right.” Sam sat down on the bed gingerly. _We’re about to have a talk, aren’t we?_ Dean mentally grumbled.

_Memories that make my heart grow cold_

“What you’re doing, y’know, it’s a good thing.” Dean stopped stock still. “Showing him how you live. Survive, I guess.” Sam smiled gently, waiting for Dean to speak. When he didn’t, Sam asked. “He knows this isn’t the only way to be human, right?”

“I think so,” Dean said, frowning. “Yeah, he knows.”

“Good.” Sam nodded.

_Well someday they’re gonna live again in my sweet heart_

“It’s, uh, good to see you happy.” Dean nodded once, wondering why Sam was still staring at him. Just his little brother being weird, he decided later as he turned over on his stomach and closed his eyes.

_And my blue moon will again turn to gold_

What Dean didn’t know, of course, is that Sam walked up the stairs to the roof and stood behind Cas as the angel stared up at the sky. “Hey, Cas.” He said softly.

“Yes, Sam?” Cas didn’t move a muscle.

“You OK?” Sam asked. He wasn’t an expert on navigating angel emotions.

“I’m good.” He smiled, looking over his shoulder at the long-haired hunter.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam swallowed.

“Of course.” Moonlight washed over Cas’ face, casting long shadows.

“You think of anyone in specific when you were, uh, singing Can’t Help Falling in Love With You?” Sam’s mouth quirked at his ridiculous question. It wasn’t his fault his brother was an ass and he had to do recon on his behalf. They did have a ‘profound bond’.

“Yes.” Cas turned back to the sky, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

“Right.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Good talking to you, Cas.” He made his way down the stairs, leaving the angel alone. He was beginning to put a pattern together. It started with eye sex, much as he hated to describe it that way, had some desperate trying to save each other in the middle and now included drinking beer in the bunker and listening to Led Zeppelin. He hadn’t thought anything of it until this morning. Something about the way Cas had talked about Dean ‘teaching him about humanity’ and the weirdly soulful way he sang along to Elvis, along with the familiar way Dean and Cas navigated each other… Sam smirked. He had a feeling a lot more Elvis was gonna be played the next time he was away.

Dean shifted in his sleep, almost positive he could hear someone singing on the roof.

_Well when my blue moon turns to gold again_

_Well when the rainbow turns the clouds way_

_Well when my blue moon turns to gold again_

_You’ll be back within my arms to stay_


	6. Ripple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean go fishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grateful Dead - Ripple  
> www.youtube.com/watch?v=671AgW9xSiA  
> So I'm super happy about this chapter, I think y'all will like it :)

When Sam kicked Dean and Cas out of the bunker, Dean couldn’t really say he was pissed off. Sam had wanted them to catalogue all the old Men of Letter’s records in some special system, and while Cas had sat down and acted like a good little nerd soldier, Dean had protested. Man, he swore Sam was becoming some sorta proto-Bobby. He’d been acting like a grouchy bear all morning, and Dean figured he’d leave his brother to sort out the musty old books in peace after being snapped at to leave if he wasn’t going to be helpful. Cas had sat unsure at the table while Dean pulled on his jacket, but followed without a word when Dean said, “Come on, Cas.” Dean, of course, didn’t see Sam’s irritable hand wave with a hidden smirk to Cas.

That was how they came to be sitting in the Impala, August sun streaming through the windows onto the leather seat, Dean playing the drums on the dashboard and Cas wrinkling his nose.

“Dean…” Cas glared at the stereo.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up, mid drum solo.

“This is unpleasant.”

“This…” Dean blinked a few times. “This is Metallica!”

“Indeed. It’s unpleasant.” Cas looked out the window, evidently unable to look at the source of the belligerent music.

Dean frowned and pushed the eject button, muttering “ _Dean, this is unpleasant_ ,” in his best Castiel impression.

“That’s not what I sound like,” Cas said, leaning his head against the window and letting the sun fall across his face.

“Sure it is. Like an angry dog with a stick up its ass.” Dean replied.

If Cas was affronted by Dean’s B-Movie worthy insult, he didn’t show it. Dean was slightly disappointed, if anything. He wasn’t even dignified by a response. Frowning over at the angel, understanding dawned. Cas had his eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering slightly. He was letting go of a little control over his vessel, letting himself feel the sun. It was a weirdly intimate sight, and Dean cleared his throat. “All right, what do you want? More Elvis?”

“Surprise me,” Cas replied, blinking his eyes open as if he’d been asleep. “Just no more Metallica.” 

“All right,” Dean said. He was still trying to be offended, for Metallica’s sake, but it wasn’t really working. “You like surprises?” He was busy trying to imagine Cas being the victim of a surprise party, assaulted by party streamers and having a stupid hat crammed on his head. He didn’t imagine Cas being happy about it.

“Well, given that I’ve been alive since basically the beginning of the Earth and know almost too much about the nature of the universe, it’s nice to discover things you don’t know.” Cas stared down at his thumbs intently, moving them in circles around each other. “Why do humans do this?”

Dean was still thinking over Cas’ response when he looked over and laughed. “They do it when they’re bored.”

Cas’ brow puckered and he clasped his hands, letting them lie still. “I don’t understand.”

Chuckling at Cas’ metaphysical confusion with twiddling his thumbs, Dean picked out his only Grateful Dead cassette. “Where are we going?” Cas asked suddenly.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it?” Dean tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, letting gentle guitar strings wash over him as they drove down a small lane. He had a feeling Cas was staring at him with that weird half smile thing he did, so he rolled the window down and stared firmly out it, letting the wind rustle its way through his hair. He parked the Impala on the patch of gravel at the end of the road, letting her engine’s growl carry on as he turned the volume all the way up. Cas was already out of the car, striding down to the lake’s surface. Dean smiled into the trunk as he pulled out the gear, then opened all the Impala’s door so they could hear the music.

_If my words did glow with the cold of sunshine_

_And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung_

Cas was kneeling down on the dock, running his hands through the water. Man, he was like a kid in a giant trench coat. If it had been Sam, he would’ve shouted something along the lines of, Get your ass over here and help me unpack the trunk, but instead he let the angel sit by the lapping water.

_Would you hear my voice come through the music?_

_Would you hold it near as it were your own?_

“Hey Cas, c’mere!”

“Yes, Dean?” Cas appeared by his side suddenly.

“Jesus!” Wiping a hand over his forehead, he took the cooler out of the trunk. “Today you’re gonna learn about the wonders of fishing, all right?”

“All right.” Cas stood stock still, listening intently before breaking into a smile. “I like this song, Dean.”

“Good. Now, hold this,” he said handing Cas a blue fishing rod. The angel looked at it like it might explode at any moment.

_It’s a hand me down, the thoughts are broken_

_Perhaps they’re better left unsung_

Cas tried. He really did. Dean could see that, even as he laughed his ass off. Cas glared at him, nursing multiple lacerations on his palms from the fishing hook. “It’s unnecessarily complicated.” Dean, though, was pretty sure Cas did it on purpose when he cast into a nearby tree. Dean had eventually tried manually straightening Cas’ shoulders, positioning his hands the right way on the rod, ignoring how the angel lookedDean sighed. “All right, go sit in one of the chairs, I’m gonna set you up.”

_I don’t know, don’t really care_

_Let there be songs to fill the air_

When he came back with two fully functioning fishing rods, though, Cas was sitting on the rocks, staring down into the water like it was a miracle. Dean cleared his throat. “Heads up.” He cast both rods into the water, before handing one to Cas and sitting down himself. “Now you wait for a fish to tug on it.”

Cas nodded and joined Dean on the adjacent chair, looking alarmed by its lack of solid substance. They were silent for a moment, Dean noticing the thin sheen of sweat on Cas’ forehead. He was doing that more and more now, Dean noticed.

“Dean, are we going to kill the fish?” Cas asked, nostrils flaring in sudden suspicion.

“Uhh…” Dean glimpsed Cas out of the corner of his eye. “Not if you don’t want to.” He eventually said.

Satisfied, Cas returned to looking at the waves.

_Ripple in still water_

_When there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow_

Dean wondered if Cas’ appreciation for the Grateful Dead was left over from his future incarnation as an orgy loving hippie. Man, that had been a trip.

_Reach out your hand if your cup be empty_

_If our cup is full, may it be again_

When Dean had caught three fish and released them again on Cas’ strict instruction, Dean rolling his eyes when he thought the angel couldn’t see him, Cas let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think fishing is one of my talents, Dean.”

“You just need practice,” Dean insisted, remembering that one time Cas had popped up in his fishing dream. Thank God it had only been a fishing dream. When Cas was silent, lips showing only a slight pout, Dean gave in. “Fine, fine. I’ll fish. You go.” Cas smiled and relegated the bemoaned fishing rod to his chair and taking off his shoes.

_Let it be known there is a fountain_

_That was not made by the hands of man_

Castiel walked the length of the shore, sometimes disappearing behind bends. He’d taken off his trench coat, leaving it folded at Dean’s feet. On any other day, Dean might have felt strange about watching him this intently. But there was something oddly innocent, charmingly human about the way the angel dipped his hand in the water, wind ruffling his hair. Whenever he noticed Dean watching, Cas smiled and Dean waved. Maybe if someone else had been there, he would’ve startled out of the trance, made some comment about what a dork Cas was and drank some more beer. Dean realized with a start that being alone with Cas made him drop his walls. Uncomfortable with the revelation, he took a swig of ice cold beer.

_There is a road, no simple highway_

_Between the dawn and the dark of night_

Cas was gone. “Shit,” Dean exclaimed standing up. “Cas?” He called out tentatively. When the angel had disappeared and not reappeared for over twenty minutes, he’d started walking. “Cas?” He shouted quietly, still trying not to be worried. Cas was an angel. It wasn’t like he could fall into the lake and drown. Right?

_And if you go, no one may follow_

_That path is for your steps alone_

“Stupid sonofabitch,” Dean growled when he found Cas. The angel was standing on the bottom of the lake, water coming up to his neck, still fully clothed. “What the hell, Cas?”

Cas dunked his head under the water, blinking water out of his eyes as it dripped down from his soaking mop of hair. “It’s warm!”

“It’s… It’s warm.” Dean glared. “Do you even know how to swim?”

“No.” Cas looked intrigued. “Do you?”

“Of course I do, now get outta there.” Dean rolled his eyes, extending a hand.

Looking disappointed, Cas walked slowly out of the water, wet white button up and a pair of Sam’s old jeans clinging to him. When they’d realized Cas basically only had one outfit, he’d become a receptacle for any clothes they’d bought or stole that didn’t fit. “Idiot,” Dean muttered.

_Ripple in still water_

_When there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow_

“All right, take your clothes off.” Dean sighed, turning away and walking towards the Impala. “I think I’ve got some dry clothes in the trunk.”

There were a few moments of silence before Cas materialized in front of him. “Dean,” he said almost laughing.

“What?” It was then that Dean realized Cas was perfectly dry, albeit with his shirt half unbuttoned.

“I assume I don’t have to strip if these clothes are dry.” Cas said dryly, tilting his head.

Dean’s eyebrows twitched. “Whatever, come on.” He wasn’t quite sure why Cas hadn’t dried his hair, which was still dripping all over his shoulders.

_You who choose to lead must follow_

_But if you fall, you fall alone_

“Dean, given that I’m perfectly intelligent, what’s so wrong with going in the lake?” Cas asked, sitting on the ground by Dean’s feet again. Dean reeled in his fishing rod aggressively before casting it out again. Dean didn’t answer, because the perfectly logical explanations of freezing or drowning didn’t really apply to the angel. “A shark could have eaten you.”

“There aren’t sharks in there.” Cas answered quickly, letting the gentle waves wash over his bare feet.

 _Damnit,_ Dean thought. “Caught me out. Fine. I don’t know, man, you could have been kidnapped by demons or something, cause I couldn’t see you.” Dean rolled his eyes, quick to dismiss the situation by handing Cas a beer. The angel opened it with his bare hands, and Dean smiled.

Cas started to laugh, long and loud. “What?” Dean asked several times, panicked, before eventually he just stared at the hysterical angel.

“You were worried about me.” Cas let out a long sigh before sipping at his beer. Sometime Dean really would have to correct him on the proper way to drink beer.

“Shut up.”

_If you should stand, then who’s to guide you?_

_If I knew the way, I would take you home_

It was maybe ten o’clock and still light when they leaned against the Impala, the Grateful Dead cassette on repeat just because Cas liked it so much.

“Dean, I would like to thank you.” Castiel spoke suddenly into their familiar silence.

“For what?” Dean asked offhandedly, watching the waves lap tentatively at the shore.

“This. All of it. I… Well, I appreciate it.” Cas was staring at his hands, and it occurred to Dean that the angel looked shy. Dork.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Dean said, poising to throw his empty beer bottle into the bushes.

“Don’t, that’s littering.” Cas said quickly. Raising his eyebrows, Dean set it back in the cooler. “Why?”

Dean was confused for a moment, before he caught Cas’ drift. Clapping the squinting angel on the back, he climbed into the driver’s seat. “You just don’t. K?”

“K,” Cas answered, lips forming the word curiously, like it might be an arcane acronym.

“All right. Let’s go home,” Dean said, slamming the door.

_La da da, la da da da da_


	7. Bluebird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is struggling with eternal life. Dean questions if he's doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buffalo Springfield - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ki5KVZ5RQuM  
> This is a bit of an angsty chapter, but I hope Destiel feels will make up for it. Thank you, Ravenwolf36 for recommending this song!

Today, Castiel was sad.

Dean had pieced this together from the set of his jaw, the downcast blue eyes. Little things which helped him stumble through his and Cas’ emotional stupidity.

It happened, every now and again. It wasn’t like Dean Winchester’s crash course in rock’n’roll minus the sex and drugs was really going to fix an angel’s existential crisis. The signs were becoming all too familiar. Silence which stretched beyond the usual, clasping and unclasping his hands as he stared off into space, lip occasionally trembling and refusing to meet Dean’s eyes, those were the signs. Dean didn’t have any fucking idea what to do. Cas had taken to locking himself into distant rooms of the bunker when he got like this, and it took Dean hours to find him. Once he did find him, Dean just stood there, unable to say anything. More often than not, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor next to Cas, sometimes letting their shoulder brush. There was something so profound about Cas’ sadness that Dean didn’t dare to touch it with a witty hello or a shot of whiskey.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was barely eleven o’clock, and a summer rainstorm had taken him by surprise. Sam was running errands, picking up beer and whatever girly essentials he needed. Dean paused. Where was Cas this time?

After scouring every room in the bunker, putting off the eventuality of what he might say or do once he found the angel, he noticed that the room with the cassette player’s door was shut. Frowning, he gave three ginger knocks. There was no response, and Dean opened the heavy door.

Not entirely to his surprise, Castiel was sitting on the floor. Clasped in his hands was a slim book, and he looked almost naked without the long trench coat. Dean stood frozen in the doorway, met with the familiar thought, _What the fuck do I do now?_

“Hey.” The hunter said, pausing by Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas offered a sigh. Dean sat down by his side, and after a brief moment of hesitation Cas shuffled closer, until their shoulders pressed together. The contact felt… safe. Dean chewed his lip for a few moments, before crawling on his knees over to the cassette deck. He knew the cassette he was looking for, even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to find it. He returned to Cas’ side, sitting just as close as he had been before.

“Talk to me,” he said over the soft yet scratchy guitar solo starting up.

Cas rested the book under his knees, taking no care to preserve his place. “I started to read poetry. Emily Dickens.”

“Oh.” Dean swallowed. Poetry was not, perhaps, his strong suit. “Do you… like it?”

“I understand it.” Castiel spoke again after a minute. “I wish I didn’t.”

_Listen to my bluebird laugh, she can't tell you why_

Dean found himself rolling in a wave of thought which was rather inescapable. It started with Castiel rescuing him from hell, had Cas rebelling _for him_ somewhere in the middle and ended with, _Did I break you?_ Of course, it was immediately followed by _You idiot, he’s not broken._ Cas was never broken. He was an angel, with all the whole steely soul and badass motherfucker status that went along with it. To think that he’d broken an angel… that was a whole new level of arrogance, even for Dean. Plus, he was just a blip on the radar in the life of an eternal being. No, Cas couldn’t be broken.

_Deep within her heart, you see, she knows only cryin'_

Dean’s throat had dried up, so he was glad when Cas finally spoke again. “I don’t know what to do.”

_Just cryin', yeah_

“What do you want to do?” Dean asked, hearing echoes of their conversation that first day he’d found Cas crying.

_There she sits, a lofty perch, strangest color blue_

Cas didn’t say anything for a long time. Dean wasn’t even sure he’d heard the question, until the response came, harsh and blunt. “I want you.”

_Flying is forgotten now, thinks of only of you_

Dean’s eyes widened, staring into Cas’, oceans of blue that seemed to drag between them as he utterly failed to comprehend what the angel had just said.

_Just you, oh_

“I mean,” Cas blinked, looking away. What a weirdly human gesture. “I want to be here, with you and Sam. It feels… like family, I suppose.” He refused to meet Dean’s gaze. “Like it did in heaven. Except without the chain of command, of course.”

Dean smiled, but it felt like his face was cracking in two. He wasn’t sure what the emotions roiling in the pit of his stomach were, but they felt an awful lot like guilt and happiness and sadness and the strangest disappointment all in one.

_So get all those blues, must be a thousand hues_

“Maybe I don’t deserve that,” Cas contemplated, staring into his palm. “Maybe I need to atone for the things I did, in heaven and on earth.” The words came falling out, bitterness spilling across them. “Maybe I ought to stop being so caught up worrying about whether I’m some angel freak of nature and moping in your living room all day, and go out and do something _important._ I mean, you never get to watch the bees, really, do you?”

_And be just differently used, you just know_

Oh, Cas. “Listen to me.” Dean said, gritting his teeth. That painful ache in the back of his throat was not tears wanting to come, he was not going to cry now. “You’re a hero.” Cas let out a low laugh. “What you did wrong, you did it because you cared too much. You tried to do right and that’s the damned best thing any of us ever do. So don’t go out there because you think you’re a bad angel and want to get reinstated as heaven’s bitch, and don’t go out there because you think you failed.” Cas’ face morphed into a tiny flicker of a frown.

_You sit there mesmerized by the depth of her eyes_

“But if you gotta go… go.” Dean’s voice was quiet. “I mean, I’ve said it before, I’m a crappy role model. You oughta go find some monks or hippies or something to teach you about life.” He laughed nervously.

_That you can categorize_

_She got soul, she got soul, she got soul, she got soul_

Cas shook his head. “Maybe someday.” Assuming Cas didn’t die horrifically, he’d be along for centuries after Dean. Dean frowned, wondering if Cas would stay with Sam and Dean until they were dust in the wind. What a weird thought. “But the monks weren’t the ones who made me question free will and destiny and taught me about humans, Dean.”

_Do you think she loves you?_

_Do you think, at all?_

Dean watched Cas over the clawhammer banjo solo, soft strings running the length of the room. Maybe trying to teach Cas what it was like to be human had been a stupid idea. Dean didn’t know the first thing about it, to start with. How could someone as fucked up as him help Cas? His brain offered a mental bitter laugh. He’d tied Cas down too long. Cas should be out there, helping people if it made him happy, watching the birds fly. Far away from the Winchesters and their fucking cursed lives. He was an angel, after all. Dean winced. Maybe it was like all the times he couldn’t let Sam die. But it wasn’t that he was afraid of Cas leaving, because Cas left all the time. The stinging realization came that if Cas left now, he’d never come back.

It was all too real, too raw and all together too much of a chick flick moment.

They’d been through too much together. Hell, purgatory, here and now and then and something in Dean’s gut cried out when he thought of losing Cas, again. But the angel wasn’t happy here, and maybe it was selfish of the hunter to keep him here, trying to make them both happy by fumbling through the half-life he could teach Cas about. They were happy, he realized. Sometimes. In those hidden moments, listening to music, Sam there or away, when they got lost in childlike, human things and forgot about the monsters.

_Soon she's goin to fly away, sadly is her own_

“I don’t want to go.” Cas grimaced, unclasping his hands. In an instant, they went from shaking to steady. “But Dean, I’m deadweight here.”

_Gives herself a bath of tears_

Dean blinked. Deadweight. He’d never thought of it that way. “You… you’re not.” He seemed to have to gulp for air. “You can hunt with me and Sam if you want. Save people. It might not be all big and cosmic, but it’s real. Cas, if leaving will make you happy, then do it.” Cas closed his eyes. “But, I, uh,” Fuck, how did it get to him saying this? “Stay.”

_and go home, and go home_

Castiel looked him straight in the face, eyes wide, and offered a single nod. They stayed like that, sitting close together but barely touching, as the last strains of Buffalo Springfield danced around the room. Nothing was really different, but there was a change in the air.

Later, Cas asked if he could have the cassette, which had a few other songs dubbed onto it. Dean pressed it into his hand wordlessly and Cas slipped it into the pocket of his trench coat. Dean knew they were just like one of Bobby’s old trucks, lovingly repaired but poised to break down at the drop of a hat. For now though, they were driving steady, and it was all right.


	8. Born to Be Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Cas on a motorbike ride to the nearest bar, where he gets Cas drunk and tries to get Cas laid. He's not quite sure where it stands on worse decisions ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because I'm an unproductive human being who would rather write fanfiction than her fully plotted out novel, I wrote another chapter! Yay!  
> Steppenwolf - Born to Be Wild   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMbATaj7Il8

It was the last day of summer, and Dean was… what was the word, exactly? Not uneasy. Not flustered. Restless, maybe. Ever since the day he’d played Cas Bluebird, things had felt a little different. Cas stared longer and harder at him than usual. Sam cleared his throat and smirked. And Dean spent a little too much time thinking how him and Cas oughta head out on a roadtrip, just to show Cas the country. Nothing had changed, he told himself. Sam was tracking down a hunt, and they’d start off tomorrow or maybe the day after. All three of them – Sammy shotgun, Cas in the back seat. Nothing had changed. Really.

Sam had taken to lending Cas books to read. After Cas saying probably more than he should have about Dean teaching Cas about humanity, the younger brother had decided Cas should know a little more about life than burgers and how best to pick up chicks. Dean knew, though, that it wasn’t strictly lending. Sam went out every week and sorted through the local thrift store for classics and anything he thought was interesting, and gave them to Cas. Whenever Cas finished a book, Sam would always insist Cas keep it in his room. Cas was blissfully unaware of the whole arrangement, but was always grateful. They spent a lot of time talking about the books. While Dean always rolled his eyes, it made him smile a little too. Just a little. Funny to think how the Winchesters were taking Cas under their wings.

Anyway, Cas and Sammy were in the middle of a conversation about whatever the latest book they’d read was when Dean tapped Cas on the shoulder.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas turned, interrupting his previous flow of speech.

“Garage in fifteen. Got something to show you that doesn’t smell like musty romance novels,” Dean muttered, retreating to his room. He could’ve sworn he heard Sam mutter something like, _are you sure about that,_ but he carefully ignored it. He swiped a blue leather jacket from deep inside his closet after donning his own familiar brown one. He eyed it, making sure it was the right fit. Dean had never worn it – a chick had left it in the back seat of his Impala after a one night stand, but it had been big on her and he was pretty sure it had been her ex’s. Not that he was going to tell any of this to Cas, of course.

In fifteen minutes sharp, Cas strode into the garage. Dean tossed the jacket to him. “Suit up, leave the trench coat here.”

Cas caught the coat clumsily, eying it and seeming to approve before shrugging it on. Perfect fit. Dean tried not to notice how it matched his eyes.

“You’re gonna need it where we’re going. Come here.” He cleared his throat, and Cas walked around the corner, eyebrows raising when he saw it. It was a glossy black motorcycle, ready to rev to life. Dean had spent all of yesterday fixing her up, and was pretty sure she had protection symbols etched into her. “Hop on,” he said handing Cas a helmet.

“I’m an angel. I don’t need protective head gear.” Cas pointed out.

Dean paused, and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Cas glared but made no comment when Dean put his own helmet down. He risked his life every day, why would this be any different? Not for the first or last time, slight idiocy and arrogance combined to make Dean Winchester.

A few moments of awkward shuffling later, and Cas sat behind Dean, arms wrapped around his torso and Dean was wondering how exactly this had been a good idea. When he felt the wind in his hair and the growl of the engine under him, he remembered. But God, he hoped Sam didn’t see this. Because riding a motorcycle with a male angel holding onto him – well, it was the gayest thing he’d ever done.

Damn, if it wasn’t fun. He couldn’t hear Cas laughing, but he could feel the angel’s shoulders shaking. It was cold, and the wind rushed in his ears and over his cheekbones. They were going fast. Man, it had been too long since he did this. The trees rushed by in a blur; he was concentrating on the two lane asphalt in front of him. Cas’ body was pushed close against him, with leather as the only real buffer.

They pulled up outside the closest dive bar messily, and the bike ground to a halt. Dean jumped off the motorbike, having forgotten there would be real people, and namely women, to see him practically advertising gay motorcycle riders. It was him and Cas, though, and that made it different. It was always different with them.

Cas half fell off the bike. “Dean, that was fun.” Fun. What an unfamiliar word on the angel’s tongue.

“Come on,” Dean said, resisting dragging Cas by the arm.

They sat down on red bar stools. Cas looked around curiously and Dean contemplated whether he should tell him his hair was a complete and utter mess. He decided not to. Dean grinned as he heard a familiar guitar riff starting up in the background music.

_Get your motor running, head out on the highway_

_Lookin for adventure, and whatever comes our way_

“Dean, why are we here?” Cas turned all his attention back to Dean suddenly, voice low.

“Well it occurred to me how you’ve never gotten properly drunk when the world wasn’t about to end.” Dean shrugged, and said to the bartender – a blonde chick maybe in her fifties – “Two of everything.” Turning back to Cas, he decided to get it out of the way. “And never gotten laid with someone who didn’t try to kill you, as far as I know.” Cas had frozen, and when the bartender skeptically started pouring shots and laying them out in front of the two men, he downed about three as soon as she laid them down.

“Vodka, tequila, sarkey.” Dean informed him as he drank. “Figured we gotta fix that. In the process you’re gonna try every kind of alcohol they got, which will probably only get you half drunk.”

“And how do you propose to go about ‘getting me laid’?” Cas asked, with a frown.

Dean sighed. He’d more or less expected this response. Cas would thank him in the morning. “Well,” he said taking a shot of god knows what, “You’re pretty hot, there are lots of single ladies, it’s not that hard. I mean,” he said, washing whatever gross concoction he’d just drank down with a whiskey, “You can probably just stare real hard at them and see if they kiss you.”

_Yeah gotta go and make it happen, take the world in a love embrace_

_Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space_

Cas didn’t look thrilled, and Dean changed the subject. “Here, drink. Listen. Born to Be Wild, man.” At Cas’ confused squint, he continued. “The song playing. It’s by Steppenwolf, and it’s amazing.” Dean raised his eyebrows, and Cas dutifully downed shot after shot and tuned into the faint rock ‘n’ roll.

“Can you really taste alcohol?” Dean asked, personally starting to regret having ordered on of everything for himself. Some of these were pretty vile.

“No. It’s just molecules. It makes the effect rather surprising,” Cas said, attempting a wink but failing sloppily.

_I like smokin lightning, heavy metal thunder_

_Racin’ with the wind, and the feelin’ that I’m younger_

“What about other senses though? I mean, not everything can just be “molecules”.” Dean said, doing exaggerated air quotes. He refused to admit he was getting pretty damn drunk, and ordered about five more whiskeys.

“Well, my eyesight is perfect,” Cas bragged matter-of-factly. “I can see every color and much farther away than a normal human. Sometimes I get distracted by details. Taste and smell are…” he waved a hand from side to side. “My hearing extends into the realm of prayers and human faith and yearnings, so I’d say that’s fairly good.”

“What about touch?” Dean asked after counting up the senses on his fingers. The bartender raised one eyebrow at him as she set his shots down with a clink. He rolled his eyes at the sassy older blonde.

“Well, I _feel_ everything. It’s just whether I chose to let it affect my vessel or not.” Cas stated off-handedly.

“Everything.” Dean repeated numbly, his mind falling desperately into the gutter.

“Everything.” Cas said, slamming down another shot. “Mm. This one is good. Very chemically unstable.”

_Yeah gotta go and make it happen, take the world in a love embrace_

_Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space_

“All right,” Dean slurred. “Who in here looks good to… you know?”

Cas frowned, but evidently grasped Dean’s meaning. He scanned the bar, inhibitions forgotten. “Well, the redhead over there has very nice breasts, and the man by the pool table is attractive – oh, that blonde in the corner looks interesting, but Dean, I-”

“Wait, did you just say you’d screw the guy by the pool table?” Dean stopped short, staring at the shot in front of his lips.

“No. Dean, I was trying to tell you. I don’t find the idea of intercourse with a stranger appealing.” Cas sighed, cradling his shot glass in his hands as if it were a flower.

“That makes you demisexual,” the bar tender commented.

Dean’s initial response of _Who asked you, sister?_ was cut off by, “You’re into dudes?”

“Gender is irrelevant,” Cas said, flipping his hands wide open. “Humans are fascinating. Why would I only want to explore one kind of them?”

_Like a true nature’s child, we were born, born to be wild_

_We can climb so high, I never wanna die_

Dean had to admit, it had a kind of Cas logic to it, but man, he’d never thought about Cas being into guys before. He swallowed. “So, ah, less one night stands, more dates?”

“I suppose so,” Cas said, evidently not picking up on Dean’s rattled mood. “But conventional dating seems exceedingly strange.”

“With you there, man, with you there.” Dean looked blankly at the table in front of him, and realized all the shot glasses were empty. Shit, he hadn’t drank this much in forever. Cas was talking about something, gesticulating with his hands and staring in the mirror behind the bar, cheeks flushed and hair a mess, but the words were blurring together and Dean just stared.

_Born to be wild_

_Born to be wild_

As the guitar and drum solo started up, Dean said, “We oughta do this more often.”

“The talking or the drinking?” Cas asked. The angel looked pretty smashed by now. He’d kept ordering more shots of whatever drink he thought was ‘chemically unstable’.

“Mm,” Dean thought for a moment. “Both. ‘Like talking to you, Cas.” The words slipped out of his mouth without warning, treacherously sentimental.

Cas smiled a wide smile, before saying with a quirk of his lips, “We should go.”

_Get your motor running, head out on the highway_

_Lookin’ for adventure, and whatever comes our way_

Those were the last two lines of the song Dean heard as the door swung shut behind them, along with the bartender calling, “Nice jackets, good luck!” as they walked away. Maybe if he’d been sober he could’ve worked out her implication, but right now everything was too funny, because Cas was dragging him by the arm and they kept stumbling over and Cas was laughing louder than Dean had ever heard him laugh. The sun was setting, making the sky that cheesy rom-com rose color.

“You’re not driving,” Cas said as authoritatively as he could in his inebriated state.

“Naw, man, it’ll be fine.” Cas laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and just as the hunter turned to grin stupidly back at him, Cas friggin’ zapped them back to the garage. Bike included. “Damnit, I coulda driven,” Dean insisted, tripping up on the way to the garage door.

Cas caught him, pulling him back up by the shoulder. “Was that how you pulled me out of hell?” Dean guffawed at the thought, and Cas rolled his eyes.

“You’re drunk.”

“That’s the idea, angel.” _Fuck, did I really just call him that?_ Cas seemed to find it funny, though, and walked Dean to the door, before zapping him into his bedroom. Confused, Dean looked around.

“Unless you wanted to trip over your brother on the way,” Cas said smugly. Man, the bastard sure was cocky when he was drunk.

“Whatever.” Cas started to take the jacket off, but Dean stopped him. “Keep it.” Cas nodded. The room was spinning, just a giant wash of gray. Cas pushed him back towards the bed, and Dean laughed. “What are you – what are you doing?”

“You’re drunk and you’re going to sleep it off.” The words would have been stern if he hadn’t smirked.

“Really, cause you seem kind of-” God, who knows what he’d have said if Cas hadn’t interrupted him.

“Shut up, Dean.” It wasn’t until Cas was gone and Dean had collapsed backwards onto the bed, shoes still firmly laced, that he realized the angel had pressed a quick kiss into his hair before disappearing.

“Shut up, Dean.” He’d said, still holding the hunter by the shoulder, whispering the last word low and hot into Dean’s ear before kissing his head and vanishing.

The last words on Dean’s mind as he drifted into a happy, drunken stupor, were familiar ones: What the fuck, Cas?


	9. One Rainy Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something inside Dean breaks as they listen to One Rainy Wish by Jimi Hendrix  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3GjYP2FOYQ

Dean didn’t have time to think through drunken nicknames and kisses that still clung to his hair. Which, for the record, he was glad about. They were working a case, and that was probably the only thing that enabled him to look Cas straight in the face. That, and the fact he liked to dismiss it as a drunk dream, I mean, he wouldn’t really flirt with an angel, least of all Cas, right? Right?

The gigantic vampire nest down in Indiana had given him more than enough to think about. The vamps had been tapping into some witchy crap, making them stronger and harder to fight. Peachy, huh? Damn, it was a good thing they’d had Cas with them. Sam and him had been outnumbered, even armed to the teeth like they always were, until Cas had destroyed their power source and took out quite a few vamps. They saved a lot of hostages – living blood bags. One of them had even tried to flirt with Cas, seemingly oblivious to the blood all down his shirt and the fact he looked like he was about to pass out. Dean had cut her off with a snappy, “He doesn’t find the idea of intercourse with strangers appealing,” and all three of them had driven back to the bunker.

Now, Dean stared at the angel. “Jesus Cas, why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought my powers would’ve returned by now.” Cas muttered apologetically. “Destroying that artefact rather drained me.”

“All right, until you get your mojo back, I gotta patch you up.” Dean said, staring at the gradually spreading red stain on Cas’ shirt. He’d seen Cas bleed tens of times, but it this, this was so very unfamiliar. Cas just stood in front of Dean, letting it seep out of his chest. The stillness hung between them as Dean thought. Cas was bleeding, but the world wasn’t ending, the forests weren’t on fire. He had time to fix Castiel this time.

“Take your shirt off,” Dean said, grabbing the dental floss and sewing needle. When he turned back, Cas hadn’t moved. He squinted. “What, you just gonna stand there and bleed out? Take your damn shirt off.”

Cas started fumbling with the buttons, not quite meeting Dean’s gaze. Dean rolled his eyes and picked up a whiskey bottle. “Here, drink some of this. Oh, and, uh,” he said with that slapdash grin which usually means he’s had a bad, quickly formed idea, “Just listen to this, instead of you know, focusing on the needle going through your skin.” Cas sat on the edge of the bed, afternoon light filtering through the window onto his bare shoulders. Dean cleared his throat and took a hot, damp washcloth, sponging it gently along Cas’ wound.

Music slowly began to fill the room, and Dean focused on Cas. Just Cas. Clean that smear of blood, there. Go easy there, the skin’s torn. Bruise there, standing out from the rest of skin. Skin, there, then more muscle than he’d expected, then bone, and inside there somewhere, angelic grace. The task was simple, just patching up a friend. But the way he went about it was like an artist, mending something broken, making sure it was just as beautiful as when he’d found it. The slow, steady movements of his hands didn’t even give him time to question that he’d just thought of Cas as beautiful.

  
_Golden rose, the color of the dream I had_   
_Not too long ago_   
_A misty blue and the lillac too_   
_And never to grow old._   


He only looked up into Cas’ face once the wound was clean. Cas, as could be expected, was staring at him. “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Dean said with a quirk of his lips, threading the floss through the needle. “You’re gonna wanna drink more of this,” he gestured to the whiskey.

Cas thought for a moment, trying to form his words. “I’m an Angel of the Lord. Or at least I was. I’ve died a few times; you’ve been to hell. Dean, we’re soldiers.” Dean clenched his jaw. “And you’re being so...” Cas’ lips stayed in an ‘o’ shape for a few moments before he finished, “gentle.”

_And there you were under the tree of song_   
_Sleeping so peacefully_   
_In your hand a flower played_   
_And waiting there for me._

Dean didn’t reply, he just doggedly pushed the needle through Cas’ skin, before drawing it out on the other side and putting it back in. One stitch. “You like the song?”

“It’s interesting,” Cas replied. Maybe he hadn’t really expected an answer. “No, it’s… beautiful, I suppose.”

“Mm. Jimi Hendrix, man, the things he could do with a guitar.” Dean continued to talk, and Cas listened. Two stitches. Three. He knew he was babbling, and he knew Cas didn’t mind. Thing was, he couldn’t look up at those stupidly blue eyes, see him wincing or staring or smiling. Couldn’t think too much about the lyrics pumping round his head.

_I have never_   
_Laid eyes on you_   
_Not like a before_   
_This timeless day_

He was breaking. Just skimming his knuckles over Cas’ skin, staring at the space where his collarbone poked out, just the guitar winding its way up and down, well stitch after stitch, he was breaking. It wasn’t the bone-crunching sort of breaking, or like glass shattering, it was more like when a dam broke, but if the water rushed in slow motion. And if he was breaking just doing this, who knows what would happen if he looked Cas in the eye.

_A but you walked and_   
_Once smiled my name_   
_And you stole_   
_My heart away_   
_A stole my heart away little girl, yeah_   
_All right_

He finished the stitches in silence. Dean swallowed. He probably made some stupid comment about Cas being ready to get up and at ‘em, but he couldn’t be sure. God, he’d never felt like this before. And it wasn’t that it came as a surprise, exactly, but it had come and he was just submerged in this _feeling._ It didn’t occur to him until later to label it as love, but what he did know was it was strong, and it tugged on his heartstrings until they might break and it felt a lot like being ripped apart and put back together at the same time and fuck, this wasn’t meant to happen, but it was.

Dean walked away. “Lemme find you a clean shirt,” he said, bending over to sort through his drawers. He picked out a faded blue button up and turned around, handing it to Cas. He’d forgotten that he couldn’t look Cas in the face, and so he did. He pressed his lips together so he couldn’t let out that final comprehending, “Oh.”

_Golden rose, the color of the dream I had_   
_Not too long ago_   
_Misty blue and lillac too_   
_And never to grow old._

Castiel didn’t say thank you. Maybe he remembered when Dean had told him he didn’t need to, or maybe it was just his angelic lack of social skills. He just looked at Dean for a long time, face gentle but giving nothing away. He didn’t put the shirt on, just clasped it to his chest. Dean’s eyes did a brief triangle from his left shoulder, travelling along his collarbone up his neck, pausing at his Adam’s apple, before returning to their previous destination.

If Dean had been able to see himself as Cas could right then, he would’ve jumped in the Impala, slammed the door and driven to the nearest dive bar, leaving behind all that damn sentiment and replacing it with alcohol and some single women. Dean made a mental note to himself to figure out how exactly he was feeling whatever he was feeling towards Cas when he’d only ever wanted to screw women. It was a relatively low priority though, he had to admit. But Cas, looking at him then, saw all the softness in those green eyes, conflict too, the slight opening and closing of his lips, and Dean Winchester was an open book. People in the next room may as well have been able to hear how fast his heartbeat was.

_Golden rose, the color of the dream I had_   
_Misty blue and lillac too_   
_Golden rose, the color of the dream I had_   
_Misty blue and lillac too_   
_Gold and rose, gold and rose, gold and rose._

They could’ve stayed like that all night, Cas staring at Dean, and Dean trying to tear his eyes away, Jimi Hendrix travelling across the guitar neck in the background. With every minute, Dean tried to push whatever this was down, to say something normal and leave. But something, something about today had broken that dam, and the water was just rising. It’s common knowledge that Dean Winchester’s never been in love. Which is one explanation why, when confronted with falling face-first into it, his only reaction was to stare.

They didn’t stay like that, though. Eventually Cas let his gaze fall, and he put on the old shirt, and fumbled with the buttons. Human clothing still seemed a little confounding to him. When he’d buttoned it most of the way up, Dean took one step forward, and straightened his collar. And that was all.

_It's only a dream_   
_I'd love to tell somebody about this dream_   
_The sky was filled with a thousand stars_   
_While the sun kissed the mountains blue_   
_And eleven moons played across rainbows_   
_Above me and you._   
_Gold and rose the color of the velvet walls surround us._


	10. Can't Find My Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blind Faith - Can't Find My Way Home   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TyynO6O0kc  
> Dean and Cas watch the autumn leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know y'all are impatient, and I know Dean's being an ass, but important things take time. I promise they will get their act together and there will be smutty times.

Ordinarily, Dean Winchester was a man of action. Castiel was extraordinary, in the literal sense, and that made everything different.

He couldn’t bring himself to sit down and think through every thought swirling through his head, couldn’t bring himself to look it in the eye. He never had been good with feelings. At small moments in the day, though, subtle revelations slipped through. Like when he caught himself thinking about Cas’ lips, about what a funny shape they were and if they’d be soft, if he kissed them. Or when he couldn’t stop grinning as they talked – that was the moment he realized he was utterly fucked. When Cas flicked his angel blade between his fingers idly and Dean remembered just how absolute the angel was. The times he got lost in Cas, whether they were talking, or smiling across a room, or sitting shoulder to shoulder; they were profound. Scary. Thrilling. Comfortable. Sam’s novels probably would have described them as beautiful, but that wasn’t his style.

It was one of the first mornings in autumn. Sam was off with Eileen again – Dean imagined them slaying monsters while walking through romantic pumpkin strewn fields. Maybe he should take Cas to one of those autumn festivals – they were a thing, weren’t they? Him and Sammy had never really had occasion to go as kids. Pleased with his idea, he jogged up the stairs. Cas had his nose buried deep in a book. “Hey Cas, you wanna go out?”

“No.”

The small word took Dean by surprise. Cas had always been interested in anything Dean said they should do. “What, why?”

Cas reluctantly lowered the book. His eyes were puffy. When he didn’t say anything, Dean asked, “Hey, buddy, you OK?”

“No. This,” He waved the now completed book at Dean before setting it on the bed, “is a tragedy. Sit down,” he invited.

Dean gulped, unable to drag his mind out of the gutter. Cas didn’t strictly need a bed, as he didn’t sleep. Dean tried to spend as little time as possible in Cas’ room, both to give him personal space and to avoid spontaneous urges to pin Cas to the wall and kiss him senseless. “Come outside, there’s something I want you to see.”

He didn’t give the other man a chance to say no, instead he dashed into the cassette room and grabbed one. He’d been outside for maybe five minutes when Cas appeared suddenly behind him. Dean exhaled; he’d started to think Cas wasn’t coming. He opened the Impala’s door, turned the key in the ignition and pressed in the cassette. Cas quirked a smile as the intriguing guitar riff began.

_Come down off your throne and leave your body alone_

_Somebody must change_

“What is it you wanted to show me, Dean?” Cas was once again wearing his beloved trench coat, albeit thrown over Dean’s old jeans and a rumpled black t-shirt. Cas sounded a little miffed. Maybe he was upset the hunter had interrupted him in the middle of his crying session. To think that an angel got moved by sad literature.

_You are the reason I’ve been waiting so long_

_Somebody holds the key_

“Look around you,” Dean said quietly. Cas blinked once before doing as he was told, eyes skimming over the quickly reddening leaves, dotted with gold and orange in between. His eyes started to widen.

“Of course,” he murmured. “They change color every year. I never thought about it before.”

Dean’s smile was jerked up from the bottom of his heart.

_Well I’m near the end and I just ain’t got the time_

_And I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home_

“This is a sad song,” Cas noted briefly. He still gazed up at the trees, gray clouds scudding across the sky.

“I guess it is.” Dean shifted his weight. He wasn’t sure what had made him pick this song. He just felt it was something Cas needed to hear. “But it’s got something, you know? Something different.”

“Sad songs don’t always make humans sad,” Cas turned his blue eyes on Dean as a query.

“No. Some of them make us happy,” Dean admitted. “I don’t know why. It just depends, I guess. Maybe on how you feel when you hear the song the first time, maybe what it makes you remember, maybe it just sounds happy. I dunno, man.”

“We’re happy, aren’t we?” Dean nearly stopped breathing at the simple question. Cas wasn’t even looking at him anymore, he was looking at each leaf like it were a little miracle.

“I-” he swallowed. “Something like it.” The answer seemed to satisfy Cas, resulting in a small smile.

_Come down on your own, and leave your body alone_

_Somebody must change_

“Dean, tell me about love.” Jesus, did Cas spend every moment of silence thinking up questions Dean didn’t know how to answer? Dean knew he spent too much of the silence staring at Cas. Anyway, he figured he owed it to the angel to try and answer his impossible questions. But God, this one?

“Cas, you know I’m really not the person to ask about this stuff…” he began awkwardly.

“But you’re the one I want to ask.” It was close to a growl. Cas’ expression was unreadable, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat.

“Um, OK.” Dean was silent, staring at his boots. “And I promise I’ll tell you everything I know.” Cas waited. “Just not today.” Cas read all those romance novels and tragedies, didn’t he know what love was about? Maybe he really was that clueless about human emotions. It struck Dean then that Cas probably didn’t, couldn’t experience love like humans. “Look, let’s save love for another day, huh?” he laughed. “I don’t know about you, but I’d just like to watch the leaves fall.” Watch you watch the leaves fall, he mentally corrected.

_You are the reason I’ve been waiting all these years_

_Somebody holds the key_

“They’re not fall-” a leaf rudely interrupted Cas’ sentence by drifting in front of his face. His blue eyes widened almost comically, and he snatched the leaf out of the air. He studied it, turning it between his finger tips, before blowing it up and letting it settle to the ground. He grinned up at Dean, and all of a sudden the figure in the trench coat seemed human again, not some celestial being who needed love explained to them. Dean could feel it again; the breaking, inside him.

_Well I’m something and just ain’t got the time_

_Oh, and I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home_

The wind started to blow, and more leaves rained down. Cas tilted his head to look up at the sky, reaching out to briefly touch the leaves as they drifted by. A small yellow one settled in his messy hair. He clasped an orange one, holding it up to the light, blue eyes all aglow. It was at that moment that Dean put a name to the breaking sensation inside him. It was right then that he fell in love with Castiel.

_But I can’t find my way home, but I can’t find my way home, but I can’t find my way home_

_But I can’t find my way home, still can’t find my way home, and I ain't done nothing wrong_

Motel rooms in all fifty states. Various prisons. Hell. Heaven. Purgatory. After all that, he’d almost found his way home. It was here, in the bunker with his brother and his friend. Except home seemed just one step closer to Cas.

_But I can’t find my way home_


	11. Light My Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas dreams for the first time since he was human.  
> The Doors - Light My Fire  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deB_u-to-IE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think y'all are gonna like this chapter ;)

Dean rubbed his eyes. He’d been cataloguing lore for a good three hours, Cas sitting opposite him. While Sam was away getting his rocks off with Eileen – Dean assumed, anyway – they were picking up the research slack. It was boring as fuck. Dean had surreptitiously chosen the stack of books about angels. He knew if there was anything he was curious about, he could just ask Cas. But the more he thought about it, the more he became fascinated with every aspect of Cas. The times he seemed almost human, when he was a full-blown angel, now in his fallen state. He was more than a little curious.

He stopped up short when, scribbled in the journal he was reading, he came across a spell. Dean swallowed. Was this for real? Apparently the spell had come from a serious witch out in Wyoming. Scrawled above it was a line reading, ‘Angels do not sleep and thus cannot dream’.

“Cas, can you dream?” He blurted out.

Cas frowned. “I don’t sleep, Dean.”

“Right.” Dean pressed his lips together, nodding. “Do you wanna?”

Cas let out a small laugh. “What?”

Dean shoved the book across the table at him, taking the opportunity to watch Cas while the angel’s eyes skimmed down the page. “It’s a sharing conscious states spell,” he said slowly. “It looks like the real deal.”

“I dreamt when I was human. It was interesting.” Cas offered. The silence continued for a few seconds. “Dean, for this to work, our minds and souls would have to… meld, I suppose. It’d be temporary, of course. But this isn’t a light spell.” Dean barely noticed Cas inspecting his fingernails in a little too much detail. This was by far the worst idea he’d ever had. Opening up his mind to Cas, right after he’d finally admitted he loved the guy but before he knew what to do about it? Yeah, crappy plan.

“Dreaming’s part of being human. Come on, what could go wrong?” Dean forced a wide smile. “Meet me in the cassette room in ten.” Gulping, he left the room and rummaged through the storage room for what they’d need. Candles, sage, a nasty looking dagger, pillows and an enchanted cat skull. What was he getting himself into? Somehow, though, he just had to know what Cas would dream about, if he could.

When Dean walked into the cassette room, music was already playing. He blinked in surprise.

“I thought this might be appropriate, I wasn’t sure-” Was Cas actually blushing?

“It’s fine, Cas. I mean, I guess dreaming might be like getting high for you.” He smiled, wondering why Cas looked pretty much like he had back in that brothel. He laid out the candles in a circle, put the pillows on the floor, arranged the other ingredients and shut the door, although they were the only ones in the bunker.

_You know that it would be untrue, you know that I would be a liar_

_If I was to say to you, girl we couldn’t get much higher_

Cas snapped his fingers and all the candles lit up. Dean let out a low whistle. He sat down stiffly. Cas met his eyes for a second too long, before starting to read the Enochian ritual in a gravelly voice. It sent shivers Dean’s spine, no doubt about it. When he was finished, Dean clasped the dagger and made a cut down his palm. Sharp pain bit into his flesh as cold air met blood. He took Cas’ hand firmly, making the same cut before clasping their bloody hands together. He muttered a few words of Latin over the enchanted cat skull, before he felt Cas’ two fingertips on his forehead. Dean let out a brief gasp of surprise before he sunk into unconsciousness.

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Try to set the night on fire_

It wasn’t like normal sleep, he knew that much. He could feel Cas, and not just from where their palms met and blood trickled down their wrists. It was more like he and Cas were in a lake, or rather they were the lake, ripples washing through them in one motion, no air between them. The room with the swaying candles was gone, the bunker, the sky was all gone. He was surrounded by Cas and was surrounding Cas. If he’d been fully conscious, he would have pulled back in an instant. It was too intimate, too much. Instead, he stayed there, basking in the cool blue.

_The time to hesitate is through, the time to wallow in the mire_

_Try now we can only lose, and our love become a funeral pyre_

Shapes and forms occasionally flickered through his mind. He wasn’t dreaming, but he was pretty sure Cas was. Black feathers fluttered at the edges of his perception, then a hand drawing a curtain closed, maybe a flash of white light. The images faded as soon as they’d started, dissolving into mist. He only wanted to reach out and touch the black feathers, run his fingers over them as if in a trance.

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Try to set the night on fire, yeah_

He gradually returned to the room, letting out a breath he felt as though he’d been holding for years. Every sensation prickling through his skin was a surprise, a sharp contrast to the blissful voice he’d felt before. Cas slumped over suddenly, and Dean reached out to catch him. They were on their knees, and Cas’ hand, the one without the blood, had found its way to the familiar handprint on his shoulder. Dean blinked. Cas still had his eyes closed. His forehead was resting on Dean’s collarbone, and Dean snaked an arm around his waist, holding the other man’s body upright. He should’ve been worried that he was awake and Cas wasn’t, but he wasn’t. Something felt profoundly right about this.

As the sprinkling guitar solo stretched on into what felt like eternity, different expressions ghosted across Cas’ face. His lips twitched into a smile occasionally, and every time his breath caught, Dean had to fight the urge to run his fingers over them, just to see how they felt. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore, the compunction to touch Cas was too much. He ran his fingers hesitantly through the angel’s hair. Cas moaned softly in his sleep, and Dean froze. Was this wrong? Castiel’s hair was so damn soft. He swallowed, before running a thumb over Cas’ cheek. His lips parted. The guitar solo carried on, almost taunting Dean that it would end sometime, and Cas would wake up. He moved his arm back around Cas’ waist, holding the angel to him, until he could almost feel Cas’ steady heartbeat through their shirts.

_The time to hesitate is through, no time to wallow in the mire_

_Try now we can only lose, and our love become a funeral pyre_

Cas’ eyes flickered open, staring up straight into Dean’s. He hadn’t really thought this part through. Cas didn’t seem alarmed to wake up in Dean’s arms, though. He didn’t attempt to move, and his hand remained firmly clasped in Dean’s. The pain had dulled to a low heat.

“I missed dreams,” Castiel spoke finally. “It was a good dream, Dean.”

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Try to set the night on fire, yeah_

“Uh, I don’t…” Dean’s voice felt husky, un-practiced. “What did we dream about?”

Cas smiled a private smile. “I was trying to find you. This girl in a red mustang kept showing up and flirting with me.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. “My prom date.”

Cas laughed quietly. “I went all over. Gabriel was working in a bar with a funny hat. I thought you might be in a swimming pool for some reason but instead there was an angry swan that stole my shirt.” Dean wasn’t sure Cas realized just how funny this all was and so he did his best to keep a straight face.

“Then I finally found you. You were on the shore of this lake – not the one we went to, one with white stones and a pine forest. I was late, but you were still waiting for me.” Cas trailed off.

“And?” Dean bit his lip.

_You know that it would be untrue, you know that I would be a liar_

_If I was to say to you, girl we couldn’t get much higher_

Cas didn’t reply, just stared up at him with those open blue eyes. Dean’s breath came shakily, wondering what the feeling whirling in Cas’ eyes was. Slowly, ever so slowly, Cas lifted his head up until his eyes were just below Dean’s. His pink lips were softly parted, and he wore that thoughtful expression Dean had grown too fond of. Every muscle in the hunter’s body was tense, his brain screaming that he ought to move away, before he did something stupid, but he didn’t want to -

_Come on baby light my fire_

_Come on baby light my fire_

Their lips met softly, and Dean melted into Cas, drawing them even closer together. Their hands, still held tightly together, were the only thing separating them. They kissed slowly, lips brushing tantalizingly. God, it was good. Better than anything, to tell the truth. Dean licked inside Cas’ mouth gently at first, before flicking the tip of his tongue across Cas’. Cas let out a quiet moan, fingernails digging into the edges of his handprint. Cas’ mouth was hot and wet and tasted of something clean, like the air after it had rained. Dean could almost swear he felt the light touch of feathers on his shoulders. His eyes were closed, but he was mapping every inch of Cas’ body that he could feel. They parted for air only when Dean was reminded by the ache in his chest that he had to breathe. “I…” The single word, with no conclusion waiting, was dragged out of Dean’s lungs.

“Sh,” Cas said, holding a single finger to the same lips he’d just kissed.

They kissed once more, soft and almost chaste.

_Try to set the night on fire, try to set the night on fire_

_Try to set the night on fire, try to set the night on fire_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, feel free to recommend me songs! If they fit with the theme I'll try and find a way to work 'em in. :)


	12. Fell For Your Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grand Funk Railroad - I Fell For Your Love  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VFBe75ghUg  
> I will try and work in some of your lovely song suggestions from the last chapter at some point :)

They didn’t talk about the kiss, but after that, the touches started. Quick, fleeting touches that still somehow lasted longer than they should. Cas would press a hand to Dean’s shoulder, or skim his finger over the hunter’s knuckles while they sat and talked. In return, Dean would rest his hand over Cas’ knee, and would sometimes draw the angel in for hugs which weren’t strictly warranted and lasted a second too long. Days went by, and there were a thousand moments when they could have, but they didn’t kiss again. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the touches, but that was when the dreams started, too.

Oh, they were good dreams. But they always left him gasping for air, sweaty and desperate and thinking of Cas. He knew it should feel wrong – waking up in the middle of the night, sheets bunched around his waist, with his best friend’s name on his lips. The dreams, though, they were always so… beautiful. He could see Cas’ wings in them, black and majestic. The dreams were never the same, either. Sometimes he and Cas were strangers, meeting on a dusty road. Sometimes they were in Purgatory. Tonight, he’d been hunting, and Cas had been the man he’d saved. Cas had worn a black suit and tie – that is, until he’d pulled it off hurriedly, pushing Dean back against the wall. Dean had moaned in his sleep at the feel of his lips, his tongue, even if it wasn’t real. The dream had been going perfectly, Cas stripping off his clothes and sinking down to his knees, dragging Dean’s pants down and licking a lazy circle around the head of his cock – when he startled awake. “Fuck,” he muttered, mind still hazy and swimming with pictures of Cas. He couldn’t say for sure what had woken him. _You really can’t go on like this,_ he told himself firmly. Sighing, he moved his hand down, gripping his aching dick.

Every time, he woke to the tune of the damn Grand Funk Railroad song. It circled round his head, and around, and around.

_Hey baby, so now you’re goin_

_Does your mind believe_

_Did you get what you wanted, and have some fun_

_Playing make believe?_

And so what, if he couldn’t help but whisper Cas’ name? So what, if when he came, all he could see was sparkling blue eyes and those too fucking soft lips? No, none of that was important. What was, though, was that when he’d taken care of himself and rolled over on his side to sleep, he wrapped his arms around his chest, imagining that they were Cas’ arms.

_I have never lost so much pleasure_

_So it’s hard to be nice_

_Hey baby, feel my hand_

_Ain’t it cold as ice?_

He sat bolt upright. No. He was not thinking about cuddling Cas. No. Sex dreams were one thing. He hadn’t gotten laid in forever, and it was normal. Sort of. Fantasies of cuddling were a whole other deal. Dean sighed. He really wasn’t going to be able to get any sleep tonight. He threw on boxers and clothes, after wiping the cum off himself with a warm washcloth. He’d almost been tempted to get into the shower, but had decided against it. Even if he couldn’t resolve what was going on with him and Cas, there was one question he could answer - what the hell did Cas do at night? His bed was almost always unslept in, used only for reading in the afternoons.

Shrugging on his leather jacket, Dean headed up the stairs. He was pretty sure Castiel was on the roof. Cold air bit into his cheeks as he opened the door to see Cas’ back to him. The angel was staring up into the night sky.

_Cause I fell for your love when I was out of my mind_

_I fell for your love and now you tell me it’s time_

_To kiss it away, to stand here and say goodbye_

That fucking song. Cas isn’t going anywhere, he always had to tell himself when the classic rock rudely awoke him. But maybe it was from all the times Cas had vanished into thin air, leaving Dean to wonder what that pulling sensation in his chest was. It seemed only inevitable that Cas would leave again someday, even if he didn’t want to believe it. He felt like they’d built something with their lazy afternoons at the bunker, showing Cas music and going for drives. Dean swallowed. Maybe he’d fucked that up when they kissed.

_Can’t you understand the way I live?_

_Half a love is all that I can give_

“Hello, Dean.” Dean strode up to Cas, more confidently than he felt. While Cas stood facing the steep drop, Dean sat on the edge of the wall, facing the opposite direction. “I do hear you,” Cas said slowly.

“W-what?” Dean gulped. Cas couldn’t mean… God, he hoped not.

“Every night. I hear you.” Dean’s eyes went wide, and his breath caught in his throat. “Praying.”

_Lonely ladies and empty faces_

_F_ _or a long, long time_

_And you might be one baby, when we meet again_

_And I’ll still try to make you mine_

“Praying?” Dean’s mind had gone blank, and it was noticing stupid little things, like the way the moonlight fell on Cas’ neck.

“Yes. Every prayer is a kind of longing.” Cas never took his eyes off of the night sky, like he was counting the stars. “I thought you should know why I never answer.”

Dean stayed silent. Every fibre of him was ready for something bad to happen. “I don’t answer because, well, I want to.” Castiel bit his lip. “I want to answer you, Dean, and that’s the problem.”

“How is that a problem?” The words came hoarse, needier than he’d intended.

“Wanting’s the problem. Dean, I _am_ an angel, and I feel things differently than you.” Dean was distracted for a moment from every implication of the conversation by how good it felt to hear Cas say, confidently, that he was an angel. Without the word ‘broken’ tacked on. “I do want things, but that’s a human emotion. I’m not explaining this very well. I told you once we had a profound bond. So when I answer your prayers, whatever they may be, it ought to be… pure. Because you needed me, not just because I wanted you to.” Cas let the words fall between them, hanging still in the air before shattering into imaginary glass pebbles on the ground.

_Cause I fell for your love when I was out of my mind I_

_fell for your love and now you tell me it’s time_

_To kiss it away, to stand here and say goodbye_

God, he wanted to say it so bad. _I need you_ was burning a hole in his throat, making it impossible to get anything out other than a harshly empty laugh. The words he should have said, had to say, were _I love you, I need you, stop staring at the sky and look at me._ Instead, he laughed.

_I fell for your love when I was out of my mind_

_I fell for your love when love was so hard to find_

_I_ _gave you my heart, and you tell me it’s time_

_To give up my love, when it’s so damn hard to find_

When Cas finally did look at him, it was awful. His gaze was even, piercing. He wasn’t expecting an answer or a declaration of love. He was merely setting the rules. “I think I should go.”

“No.” Dean said loudly, red rushing to his head. No, no, no.

“I’ll stay.” Cas said, pressing his lips together like there was more he wanted to say. “But I think I should go.”

_Love is so hard to find, love is so hard to find_

_I don’t want lonely ladies and empty faces_

_All I wanted was you_

“Why?” Dean whispered.

The angel’s face twisted into an unfamiliar, bitter expression. “Because I want to stay.”

“Oh, Cas.” Will we ever get fixed? Will we ever fucking fix each other? Or will we just stay here, punishing ourselves for the past? Fuck it. “Take a drive with me tomorrow.” The words seemed so mundane, inadequate. Dean covered Cas’ hand with his, circling a thumb over the back of Cas’ hand. These touched were what they were allowed now, what was all right.

Cas nodded slowly, a smile forming that looked like it had been carried all the way from hell and back. Which, Dean supposed, it had. It was then that he resolved he would show Cas he loved him in an utterly human way. Small things, every day. No matter how hard it’d be to battle down that wrenching fear in his chest. Almost imperceptible changes to show that damn angel he needed him.

_I gave you my heart, and now you tell me it’s time_

_I say, I ain’t sayin goodbye_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, you wanted fluff with lots of sex. We'll get there. But love between an emotionally constipated dude and an angel who hasn't felt anything since the beginning of the universe is complicated.


	13. Free Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean go off on a roadtrip.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0W1v0kOELA

“Pack your bags.” Those were the first three words Dean spoke the following morning. He hadn’t accounted for the flash of hurt in those damn blue eyes, the misunderstanding and typical confusion. “I mean,” he scuffed the bottom of the wall with his boot, kicking anxiously. “We’re going somewhere, so pack up your stuff and meet me at the car.” Cas nodded once. He no longer asked what crazy plan Dean had cooked up. Dean liked to think that was because he liked to be surprised. He smiled.

Half an hour later, Cas walked up to the Impala, a small bag slung over his shoulder. For a being who’d been alive for thousands of millennia, he really hadn’t picked up much stuff along the way. “All right. Chuck it in the trunk and let’s go.”

Cas slammed the door after him, smirking a little. Dean thought he was inwardly pleased to finally ride shotgun. Dean absent-mindedly hit play on the stereo and pulled out of the garage, leaving the bunker in the dust behind them.

_If I leave here tomorrow_

_Would you still remember me?_

“We’re going on a roadtrip,” Dean announced. “Just the two of us.” That was probably a bit obvious, but Cas didn’t point it out. “We’re gonna hook up with Sam on the other end. He thinks he’s gonna get on a flight back, but we’re gonna beat him to it and drive back. It’s not a long drive. Two or three states. But I thought it’d be… I dunno…” he stumbled. “Fun? Show you some of America, y’know.” Dean waited impatiently for Cas’ response. The angel looked to be mulling it over.

_For I must be traveling on now_

_Cause there’s too many places I’ve got to see_

Finally, Castiel cracked a smile and nodded. He didn’t say anything, but it was enough. Words were overcomplicated, anyway. Especially when it came to Cas. It was some hours later when he did speak. The Lynyrd Skynyrd cassette mix was on repeat, but Cas didn’t seem to mind. “Tell me about this song,” he said when it had cycled back to Free Bird.

“It’s by Lynyrd Skynyrd,” Dean shrugged. “Most of their original members died in a plane crash. They’re from Alabama. This song,” he laughed slightly, “Is basically what I’ve had to tell every girl I’ve ever slept with.” He winced then, realizing that you probably shouldn’t mention that sort of thing to the guy you’d fallen in love with. But it wasn’t just some guy. It was Cas.

_But if I stayed here with you girl_

_Things just couldn’t be the same_

_Cause I’m free as a bird now_

Cas thought for a moment, leaning his head against the window. “Sam always said you wanted a family.”

“Well, I – yeah.” Dean took a hand off the steering wheel, running it through his brown hair. “I don’t know anymore. I used to. But other stuff, it’s more important. I can’t have a normal life, and I know that now.”

“Saving people. That’s more important.” It was a question, and Dean knew that.

“Yeah. And you, and Sam, and… uh, my Baby.” He grinned stupidly. “I’m good how I am. And this is a damn fine song, so I’m alright with it being my accidental anthem. Mostly.”

“Mostly.” Cas repeated, squinting.

“Mostly good. That’s all anyone ever is.” Cas nodded as if he’d just imparted some great philosophical revelation.

_And this bird you’ll never change_

_And this bird you cannot change_

_And this bird you cannot change_

_Lord knows I can’t change_

“Dean, I think I’m mostly good.” Cas announced resolutely.

Dean smiled. “Of course you are.” When Cas looked at him questioningly, he added, “We’re all right, y’know? Sam’s all right, happy even. And we’re together. So I guess that’s why we’re mostly good.”

Dean didn’t think Cas was going to speak, he was so engrossed in watching the landscape slide by. Small towns, mostly, with some flat countryside inbetween. Nothing special. There was something special, though, about watching Cas looking out the window, one hand resting on faded blue jeans that used to be Dean’s, white collar messy. Dean swallowed.

“Things are better with you.” Cas told him gruffly, shaking his black hair out of his eyes long enough to give Dean a piercing stare.

Dean’s lips formed one of those smiles often made when one is happier than one’s ever been, but being torn apart at the same time. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

It was only later when Dean realized that Cas hadn’t said anything that could be answered with a ‘me too’. He bit his lip, silently cursing. Cas, though, Cas understood.

_Bye bye baby, it’s been a sweet love_

_Though this feeling I can’t change_

“Human beings make music to express their feelings,” Cas said out of the blue.

“Yup. Don’t know where the world would be without classic rock.” Dean smiled, watching Cas’ knee groove along to the punchy, distorted guitar riff.

Cas nodded. “Do you play music?”

“’What? No.” Dean frowned.

“Why not?” Cas ran a hand over his stubble, bemused.

“Well, I never learned I guess. Dad wasn’t really one for music lessons. Not everyone makes music, Cas.” Dean realized that he’d never seen Cas’ hair or stubble grow out before, except in purgatory. He’d assumed it was part of that control over his vessel thing. Maybe Cas was letting it grow out, just to see what it felt like. For some reason, the thought made him feel… warm. It was a weird feeling others might have labelled as affection.

In the middle of that revelation, an idea struck him. He stopped the car outside a podunk used junk and antique shop, brakes screeching slightly. “Stay in the car. I need to get something and then we’ll stay at the motel down the road.”

“Dean-” the door slamming shut cut off Cas’ protest.

_But please don’t take it so badly_

_Cause the Lord knows I’m to blame_

About twenty minutes later, Dean knocked on the roof, holding something perfectly behind his back. Cas stepped outside, stretching briefly. Dean tried not to notice how his shirt rode up, allowing for a perfect view of his hip bones. He failed. “What is it, Dean?”

“I, um,” Dean stammered. Damnit, Cas was the only one who could make him fucking stutter, of all things. Eventually, he just handed it over cautiously. Dean gave Cas the first sign he loved him standing in the empty parking lot of a small town, the smell of smoke hanging in the air.

“Dean, I…” Cas ran his hands along it, exploring every inch oddly tenderly. Dean refused to let his breath hitch, drawing in air steadily. He couldn’t be imagining what it would feel like if Cas touched him like that. Thing was, Cas did touch him like that. Whenever they hugged each other close, or sat without talking, their shoulders touching, or when their fingertips touched – that was exactly how Cas touched him. Fuck, that breaking feeling was back.

_But if I stayed here with you girl_

_Things just couldn’t be the same_

_Cause I’m free as a bird now_

“I love it,” Castiel finished, clasping the bleached tan guitar to him. The words sounded foreign in Cas’ mouth, the way they rolled off his tongue. It was all scratched up, but Cas didn’t care. From Dean’s limited knowledge of guitars, it was acoustic, seriously old, maybe three quarter size, but pretty decent.

“I just thought… yeah.” What he’d actually thought was that angels should be able to express feelings through music too, but no way in hell could he say that now. Plus, he liked the image of Cas in his old trench, hollowing his body around the guitar, maybe singing some stupid Elvis song. “Um, I got a book, too. I’ve got no idea how to play, but I thought maybe we could… figure it out?”

Cas didn’t say thank you. He knew better than that. They walked slowly down the street to the nearest motel. They got weird looks when they checked in, and there was the familiar mutter of, _‘Are you sure you want two singles?’_. This time, though, Dean flushed bright red.

_And this bird you’ll never change_

_And this bird you cannot change_

_And this bird you cannot change_

_Lord knows I can’t change_

It was later that night, and the sun had set. Cas was fumbling over the guitar, wincing when he pushed his fingers down into the fretboard. He was going at it determinedly, and though it sounded pretty awful, sometimes the beginnings of things are that way. Dean lay on his bed, half asleep. He knew Cas didn’t sleep. For the first time, the thought of Cas watching over him didn’t seem… well, creepy. It seemed comforting.

Maybe if Cas had had a little more beginner’s luck playing guitar, and Dean hadn’t zoned out into his own thoughts of Cas, the hunter might have made out the garbled strains of Buffalo Springfield’s Sit Down, I Think I Love You. Cas didn’t, though, and Dean had. He was thinking about Free Bird. He’d listened to it so many mornings, pulling away from a sleazy motel, cold air caressing the hot red hickeys on his neck. Another girl who’s name he’d never known in the first place left behind. The song should make him sad, by all rights, if it made him feel anything. Riding in the Impala with Cas, knowing that Sammy was safe and they could go anywhere they wanted; it made him feel the song harder than he had before. Dean Winchester couldn’t change. He’d always be stuck in the hunting life, slightly bruised, protecting his brother and with his angel by his side. If Dean had been fully awake, he would have been kicking himself for all the cheesy chickflick crap his brain was throwing out. As it was, he was mostly good with this life.

_Lord help me, I can’t change_


	14. Somewhere USA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordon Lightfoot, Somewhere USA  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xFNQQW5wZ8

They were about halfway there. When they’d pulled into the next town and the sun had set, Dean had set off to the nearest bar, leaving Cas in the motel room. It wasn’t like the guy couldn’t leave if he wanted to. He’d staked a firm claim on the seat nearest the hot bartender out of habit. A guy needed a break from laconic angels every once in a while, he told himself. It was just an hour and a few shots. He didn’t have any intention of seriously wooing the bartender, but he certainly hadn’t meant to spill his guts out to her. He walked out of the bar with suspiciously wet eyes, inebriated and with the bartender’s parting greeting of ‘Damn good luck’. Dean walked into the motel room, not really expecting Cas to be there. He got a surprise when Cas was curled on the farthest bed like a cat, reading. The guitar was propped up against the bed, and Dean smiled. That meant Cas had taken it out of the trunk and played it while he was away.

“Hey,” he said, hanging his jacket up.

Cas sat up, swiftly hiding the book he’d held under his pillow. “Dean.” There were no other words for it. The angel looked pissed. Angry, slightly miffed, shirt rumpled and hair messy. Pissed and oddly human. Dean almost laughed.

“Good book?” He fished into his jean pockets, drawing out a scuffed cassette he’d picked up from a box on the side of the road on the way home. Just ‘cause Cas would like it. No other reason.

_Out on the road, like a low down joe_

_And the bar where we are is so cool I’d like to stay_

Cas glared in response. Dean frowned. They’d talked normally in the car. Cas surely couldn’t be mad because he’d gone to blow off a little steam. “You OK?”

“Perfectly all right,” Castiel answered stiffly. His eyes flickered curiously to the soft folk rock crackling from the crappy stereo.

“Yeah. Right.” Dean rolled his eyes, and kicked his boots off. He sat down at the end of hid bed. He could feel the angel watching him. Man, his love life was fucked up. Since when did he even have one?

_Misunderstood, like I knew I would be_

_The one I care for don’t mind, she’s built that way_

“This is Gordon Lightfoot, by the way. Played a twelve string guitar. I thought you might like him, cause you’re into that whole manly yet sensitive music.” Dean quirked a smile.

“Dean, why did you get a room with two beds?” Cas asked suddenly, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“I – uh – what?” Dean sputtered. He might not be drunk, but he was too drunk to deal with whatever this was.

“I don’t need to sleep. I could have… gone somewhere else. Wouldn’t that have been better?”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say. “Better how? Why?”

Cas tilted his head to one side and growled, “I know why you go to bars.”

Dean went to sink down onto his bed, only to realize he was already sitting down. “Oh. Uh, right. Oh.” They were both silent. “You think you should go somewhere else so I can get laid?” He finally asked.

“Yes.” Cas said simply.

“Fuck, Cas. Why would you-” he took a deep breath. “I wanted us to go on this trip together. Why would I be running off to bang chicks every night?” His laugh was shaky.

“You go on roadtrips with Sam. He was the one who quite indelicately informed me what you did at bars.” Cas’ words were hard, almost a challenge.

“Damnit. This is different. I, uh, we’re different. I thought you knew that.” Dean stared at his hands.

_I would gladly offer you my love_

_In this hotel in Somewhere, USA_

“I think I understand better now.” Cas swallowed, closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him.

“Good.” Dean said abruptly. “Are you less pissed off now?”

“No.” Cas snapped, turning towards the window, away from Dean.

“What? Why are you mad?” Dean asked, exasperated.

A few minutes passed. “While you were gone, I felt something.” Cas sounded bitter.

“Uh, okay. What?” Dean swung his legs over the bed, so he was facing Cas’ back.

“I don’t know. I’m not experienced with _feelings_.” Cas’ voice shook.

“Right.” Dean sighed, remembering. “Describe it to me.”

_This rental car never went so far_

_But with each passing mile one more dream has turned to clay_

“I… it was unpleasant. I felt hollow and the back of my throat ached. Inside me seemed cold and sharp and… I don’t know, Dean.” Cas stuttered.

Dean crossed the two foot gap between their beds unsteadily, like it was a line that couldn’t be crossed over again. “OK,” he said softly. “Does this make it go away?” He laid the palm of his hand flat across Cas’ back, touching him through the worn fabric of his blue shirt.

Cas stilled. “Yes. How did you know?” Neither of them dared move for a moment, until Dean sank down onto the bed next to Cas.

“That’s loneliness, Cas.” Dean wasn’t sure he ever wanted to stop touching Cas, even if it was innocent, comforting touches like this one.

“Oh.” Color spread along Cas’ cheekbones.

“It’s a real human thing, I guess.” Dean muttered. “You never really get used to it, I gotta tell you.”

_Now that we’ve met, and your eyes are all wet_

_Let me fetch my guitar, there’s a song I’d like to play_

“I don’t like it.” Cas said shortly. He contemplated Dean’s words, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked.

“No one does,” Dean laughed. He started drawing circles with his index finger, barely paying attention to anything else. Cas’ lids half closed like a lazy cat. Dean knew he was the only one who got to touch Cas this way. April had screwed him, and Meg had kissed him, but it was nothing like this. This was… perfect, he supposed. He swallowed. “Can I show you something?”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas answered. His voice was gentle, like ocean waves lapping at the shore.

“Okay. But you have to take your shirt off.” Dean winced at the way the words had come across. “Trust me.” He hoped that conveyed what he wanted to say. _I’m not gonna kiss you, or say I want you. None of those things we’re not allowed to do._

“I do.” Cas said, and his hands busied themselves on his buttons. Dean pulled the shirt off, and let his eyes roam down Cas’ naked shoulders and back. He started tracing designs on the bare skin, lightly at first, both hands skimming across the angel’s back.

_I would gladly offer you my song_

_In this hotel in Somewhere, USA_

“You know,” Dean said offhandedly, “What you said earlier doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.” Cas’ eyes were closed, his head tilted back, and he carried on. “What you said on the roof.”

Cas sighed. “What I said is true. But I suppose you want to know _the_ truth.” They were both so fucking vulnerable right now. There wasn’t anything left but the truth. “Dean,” he said in a broken voice, “Anything I try to do right, I shatter.”

Dean swallowed, tears springing suddenly to his eyes. “That’s not true.” Cas didn’t answer. His hands trembled on the angel’s skin. “And even if it was, I don’t break easy.”

“Yes,” Castiel murmured. “You do.”

Dean bit his lip sharply. “You saved me once, angel.” He’d done it again. That stupid nickname. “Lie down,” he instructed, guiding Cas down onto the mattress, his face pressing into the pillow. He began to work in earnest, pushing hard into the muscles of Cas’ back. A deep groan escaped Cas’ throat, and Dean smiled despite himself.

_One never knows where the good times go_

_If you’ve got some to spend we’ll do anything you say_

As he ran a thumb up the center of Cas’ spine, he started talking. “You know, I like to think none of the rules apply when it comes to us. Seems like everything I love burns. But you stuck around. Keep coming back, actually.” Dean was so caught up in the gentle guitar and the feel of Cas’ skin and the soft sighs he made and trying to get the words across that it never occurred to him that he’d just told Cas he loved him. He could swear as he talked, he could see the faintest shadow of wings appearing across the floor. It wasn’t like when Cas had done the same thing to intimidate him the first time they’d met. If you could call it ‘meeting’, exactly. He was pretty sure Cas didn’t even know it was happening.

_I’d never lie, well you know I try_

_Though you think it’s the drink that’s made me behave this way_

Somewhere along the line, he stopped talking, and started praying. He knew Cas could hear every word. He’d never been much one for praying, but he prayed to Cas. He caressed the curves of Cas’ shoulders before running a fist up his lower back. His prayer ended suddenly. It wasn’t coherent words in Dean’s mind, more of a feeling. Cas heard it, though. Loud and clear. _Could you just let me love you?_

“Oh, Dean.” Cas turned over, catching the hand that had been stroking his shoulder blades in his own hand. He pulled Dean down on top of him, and snapped his fingers. The lights flickered off. Dean shifted in the embrace so Cas was now in his arms, his head nestled between the hunter’s shoulder and neck. It felt safer this way. In the dark, it was almost like they couldn’t see themselves break.

_I would gladly offer you my love_

_In this hotel in Somewhere, USA_


	15. Burning For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue Oyster Cult - Burning For You  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipqqEFoJPL4  
> Dean shows Cas how Halloween is really done.

_Home in the valley, home in the city_

_Home isn’t pretty, ain’t no home for me_

They were sitting in the Impala, driving slowly through the street. The windows were rolled down, night air gently gracing their cheeks. Dean tapped his fingers against the smooth steering wheel in time with the rock oozing out of the car speakers.

“Dean, why are the pumpkins on fire?” Cas asked idly. His head was propped up on his fist, elbow resting on the open window.

Dean smiled slowly. “It’s Halloween, Cas. You didn’t know that?”

“No.” Cas paused and turned to look at Dean. “Are we here on a hunt? Nothing to do with Samhain, I hope.”

Dean laughed. “We’re not hunting. There’s nothing miles around, for one thing. Nearest report sounds like a werewolf in the Grand Canyon.”

“Then why haven’t we checked into a motel yet?”

Dean checked the clock. It was just past ten pm. “Cas, you’re centuries old-” Cas sniffed at this point “-millenia, whatever, and you’ve never celebrated Halloween. I’mma gonna fix that.”

_Home in the darkness, home on the highway_

_Home isn’t my way, home I’ll never be_

Cas asked curiously, “Isn’t Halloween for children?”

“What? No!” Dean said, much in the same tone he’d used while insisting ketchup was a vegetable. “I mean, we’re not gonna dress up and go door to door asking for candy.” If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Cas looked a little put out at that. “But that’s not what Halloween’s about. Follow me.” He parked the par expertly before stepping out into the cool street. It seemed pretty quite, but then it was a damn small town. The teenagers were probably having dodgy parties and the kids were in bed by now. Cas followed him without question as Dean cut through someone’s back yard, through a row of trees and into a field.

“With any luck,” the hunter muttered, “It’ll still be here.”

_Burn out the day, burn out the night_

_I can’t see no reason to put up a fight_

_I’m livin for givin’ the devil his due_

They emerged into a giant pumpkin field. Dean grinned and broke into a jog. He sat on one of the giant pumpkins and Cas followed suit, running his hands over it like it might be a meteor from outer space. Dean pulled a knife out of his back pocket – a little big for the purpose, but it’d do. Kneeling on the hard ground, he deftly cut one pumpkin and then another from the coarse, tangling vines that connected them. He lobbed one of them at Cas, trying not to laugh as the angel nearly dropped it.

“Sammy and I stayed here one October while Dad was on a hunt. He pestered me into doing Halloween properly,” Dean laughed. “Here. Cut into the top, like this.” He positioned Cas’ hands without thinking twice.

“Is this customary?” Cas asked, cradling the pumpkin like a baby, staring into the hole they’d made.

“Yes. Now, scoop the insides out.” Dean laughed at Cas’ alarmed expression as he reached his hand inside. Cas started laughing too, and it was that pure laughter that comes only when you quite haven’t understood the joke yet.

“OK,” Dean announced when there was a visceral pile of pumpkin seeds at their feet. “Now you’re gonna cut a design through the outside. Like this.” He started cutting a pentagram without quite meaning to. “Er, it can be whatever you want.”

Cas nodded, and looked up at the moon. Dean could tell he was thinking way too hard about it. Sighing, Dean resumed with what had now become a devil’s trap. Whatever. He’d given up on the idea of an apple pie life a long time ago. As far as Halloweens went, watching Cas staring up at the sky, moonlight falling across his stupidly pretty features and carving demon bait pumpkins; well, it could be worse.

_And I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you_

_I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you_

Dean was pretty sure Cas slipped up and cut himself once, but a flick of angel mojo later, and it was gone. Dean shook his head. Half an hour later, two sloppily cut pumpkins sat before them. Dean stood back to admire their handiwork. Cas was still by his side. Finally, Dean took out his lighter and two tealights he’d hurriedly crammed into the pocket of his leather jacket. To be honest, he was pretty sure some hippy chick Sam had banged had left them in the car – maybe during the year he didn’t have a soul, but he was trying not to think about that. He handed them to Cas, who cupped them gingerly while Dean lit them. He lowered them down into the pumpkins and heard Cas’ breath hitch behind him.

“Oh,” The angel smiled. “I like this tradition, Dean.”

“I thought you would.” Dean was pretty sure Cas’ pumpkin held an enochian sigil of some kind, but he had no idea what it meant. Instead of asking Cas, he committed it to memory. Dean grinned, and he and Cas’ hands brushed in the dark field.

_Time is the essence, time is the season_

_Time ain’t no reason, got no time to slow_

“Come on. We’re not done yet,” Dean growled, and pulled Cas away. Cas was grinning, and Dean made a private vow to try and make that stupid smile pop up as often as he could. Jesus, his life was becoming such a chick flick. They left the pumpkins blazing. The farmer would probably think someone had been summoning Satan in his pumpkin field – Dean smirked.

About five minutes down the road, there was an old movie theatre. It was now maybe eleven, but it was still open. Dean jogged inside, Cas frowning on his heels. There was a bored looking teenage guy lurking behind the counter.

“Hey,” Dean barked.

Raising his eyebrows, the young man reluctantly unfolded his arms. “You here for the horror movie?”

“That’s the one,” Dean said. He noticed the glances the guy was giving him and Cas, and he glared. “Also, one of everything.” He gestured at the popcorn vender and the scrawny display of candy bags hanging behind the counter. “And whatever alcohol you’ve got secreted away in the back.” He smirked.

“Whoa,” the guy said. “My grandpa runs this place. You think I’m gonna give you his booze?”

“Look, it’s like a damn haunted house in here.” Dean snapped. “So yeah, you’re gonna bring whatever stuff you’ve got out.”

Cas touched Dean’s arm. “Dean-”

“It’s cool, Cas.” Dean Winchester was good at getting what he wanted. With a lazy teenage sigh of epic proportions, the guy went through the Staff Only door.

_Time everlasting, time to play B-sides_

_Time ain’t on my side, time I’ll never know_

“Dean,” Cas said uncomfortably. “You know I can’t taste food.”

“I know,” Dean said, handing two of the giant popcorn containers to Cas. His arms were full of candy and booze. God, the bitch face Sam would be giving him right now. “Just trust me on this, OK?”

They settled down in the comfy red cinema chairs, as crappy trailers started to play. “OK,” Dean whispered, even though they were the only ones in the theatre. “I want you to close your eyes, and think me. Think hard.”

Cas’ eyelids twitched, and Dean grabbed his hand. He made sure it was the one with the scar running down the palm, the one that matched his. No amount of angel magic was going to do away with that scar. Dean could have kissed him just then. Instead, he was repeating an incantation over and over again in his mind. He reached covertly into one of the bags he had bought, and drew out a milk chocolate. He winced. Girls in high school really had missed out – he would have been the best cheesy boyfriend ever. Shaking his head clear of the word boyfriend, he popped the chocolate between Cas’ gently parted lips.

_Burn out the day, burn out the night_

_I’m not the one to tell you what’s wrong or what’s right_

_I’ve seen suns that were freezin’ and lives that were through_

Cas’ eyes opened wide in surprise. “Dean,” he said, voice muffled with chocolate. Dean waited for a few moments while Cas stared at their hands with a small, confused smile. “I can taste it.”

Dean grinned. “Told you so.”

Cas plucked another chocolate out of the bag, testing eagerly to see if it had been a fluke. Dean opened a can of beer and took a swig, closing his eyes. “See, I was reading the other day… and it turns out that Shared States spell we did was a little less of a one time thing and a little more of a bridge.”

“You’re saying I can feel things like you do?” Cas blinked.

Dean was half afraid he’d be angry. “Not all the time. Only when we’re together and I say the incantation.”

Cas didn’t say anything, but his grip on Dean’s hand tightened.

_But I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you_

_I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you_

The movie was something classic yet generic, and Dean can’t honestly say he’d looked at the tickets when he bought them. Cas was weirdly riveted, though. Dean couldn’t help feeling oddly satisfied when the angel jumped at all the appropriate points. He didn’t laugh when he was meant to, but Dean supposed that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t imagine this was one of the movies Metatron had seen and downloaded to Cas’ head.

Funny. They’d been through hell, literally. Blood and fighting and just general horrible stuff that’d drive anyone stark raving mad. And here they were, watching a horror movie. An angel and a human. Dean laughed softly in the dark, before knocking back a shot of whiskey.

_Burn out the day, burn out the night_

_I can’t see no reason to put up a fight_

_I’m livin for givin’ the devil his due_

If Dean fell asleep halfway through the movie, and Cas picked him up and zapped them back into the car when the credits had rolled to a halt, that was between him and his angel. Cas did take advantage of the fact Dean was asleep to dump the multiple beer cans and wrappers in the trash, before apologizing to the young clerk. The guy muttered that it was all right. When somebody asked him years later who the weirdest couple that had ever seen a movie there were, he may have mentioned something about two gay guys, one in a leather jacket and the other in a trench coat. Dean would never know that, of course. He was too busy snoring in the Impala while Cas listened to his cassettes on repeat.

_And I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you_

_I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my teeth fell out while writing this from how stupidly sweet it is.


	16. Like a Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas and Sammy hunt a werewolf in the Grand Canyon.  
> Bob Seger, Like a Rock  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keIvA2wSPZc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if there are any mistakes in this. I wrote it while cooking dinner. I think y'all are gonna like it, though ;)

“Sammy!” Dean enfolded his brother in a quick hug, which the taller man returned, albeit with something of a bemused expression.

“Dean, what are you guys doing here? My plane’s not til tomorrow.” Sam surveyed his brother and the angel and couldn’t help but notice that they were standing awfully close. Then again, they always did.

“Exactly. You’re getting’ a refund on your ticket and driving home with us.” Dean announced, beaming.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Uh, okay. What, you got worried about me flying on my own or something?” His lips twitched.

“We were getting cabin fever,” Dean said, running a hand across his chin. _Something like that, anyway._ “Thought a roadtrip would do us good. So here we are.” It was that dorky grin again.

Sam did his trademark mouth-shrug, but underneath he was thinking through his brother’s words. Roadtrip, huh?

“Come on, get in the car.” Dean closed the matter and opened the impala door, letting the Bob Seger song which had been confined to the car play through the street.

_Stood there boldly_

_Sweatin in the sun_

_Felt like a million_

_Felt like number one_

Sam laughed, a small, private laugh. Dean and Bob Seger, huh. Cas and he stood awkwardly on the passenger’s side of the car, each knowing the other usually rode shotgun in their absence.

“I’ll take the back,” they said simultaneously.

Cas laughed, to Sam’s surprise. He’d been expecting an eye squint. “No, seriously, I mean it.” Sam clapped a hand to Cas’ shoulder and climbed into the back seat. If Dean was aware of their exchange, he didn’t show it. Sam had to admit it felt weird to be sitting back here. He hadn’t sat in the back seat since John had owned the Impala. But he wanted to show Cas that he was… important, y’know. Part of the family and not just back seat material. Plus, Sam had a feeling Cas ought to get used to riding shotgun.

“So, about us heading home-” Sam tried to intercede, shuffling his legs and trying to get comfortable.

“Yes,” Dean said.

“No,” Cas countered simultaneously.

“Uh… where are we going, Cas?” Dean raised his eyebrows, pulling out of the parking lot only to hesitate on the road.

“The Grand Canyon,” Cas announced nonchalantly, picking up the paperback he’d stashed in the glove compartment.

_Height of summer_

_I’d never felt that strong_

_Like a rock_

_I was eighteen, didn’t have a care_

“For that werewolf gig?” Dean asked, turning onto the highway, admittedly in the direction of the Grand Canyon.

“Yes. We are still hunting, correct?” Cas raised a solitary eyebrow and Dean turned back to the wheel.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Grand Canyon it is. But it’s gonna take days of driving.” Something about the idea of sharing a motel room with both the angel and his brother didn’t appeal to Dean. Sam probably wouldn’t appreciate Dean having Cas-related sex dreams. Cas regarded them as prayers, and fucking weird as that was, it was… well, whatever.

_Workin’ for peanuts, not a dime to spare_

_But I was lean and solid everywhere_

Dean blinked. “What the fuck, Cas?!” His wheels were turning on sand, and he slammed on the brakes.

Cas relinquished hold of the steering wheel with a smirk. “This way’s quicker.”

The Impala sat at the edge of the Grand Canyon.

“Wow,” Sam let out a long breath. “That’s, um, convenient.”

If Dean hadn’t been so pissed off about Cas frikkin’ _teleporting his car_ , he might have acknowledged that it was actually kind of awesome. But he was, and he just said angrily, “And I reiterate, what the fuck?”

Cas shot him his _I’m a smug badass_ glare and got out of the car. “I believe we have a pack of werewolves to hunt.”

_Like a rock_

_My hands were steady_

_My eyes were clear and bright_

They geared up, jamming silver bullets in their place and reaching for another handgun, until they were ready. Sam smiled for a moment too long at the beat up guitar resting in the trunk. They had reason to think a pack of werewolves were organizing themselves, which was unusual, apart from the werewolf cults. Usually werewolves turned out to be civilians by day who had no idea what had happened to them. This clearly wasn’t the case here. Which meant the wolves were gonna be nastier than normal, but also removed any gray lines they might have struggled with. Dean could do with a cut and dry case.

At least, this was what he was trying to think about while tossing first aid supplies into the duffle bag. Truth be told, he was busy staring. The Grand Canyon was fucking amazing. Jaw dropping. To think he’d never been here before, and to think that of all people, Cas had brought him. Castiel was wearing his familiar trench coat, taking to the task at hand earnestly. The sun was setting, but the full moon was already up in the sky. Dean almost regretted telling him that he sucked as a hunter before, but the guy’s people skills were permanently rusty.

He was jerked out of this train of thought by a growl. _Fuck,_ Dean thought before claws ripped across his shoulder.

_My walk had purpose_

_My steps were quick and light_

_And I held firm to what I felt was right_

_Like a rock_

Slashing here, hacking there. Blood spurting across his face. A howl. Stab. Pain slicing along his back. A naked dead guy at his feet, another lupine face looming in front of him. A burst of white light when Cas iced a wolf. Dust in his eyes. Sam shouting out. Gun shot. Fuck, reload. Bang. Dead.

Dean slid to the ground, his back propped up against the Impala.

“That’s all of them,” Sam announced somewhat unnecessarily, clutching his shoulder.

“Adios, motherfuckers,” Dean grunted.

Cas knelt by him, and cupped his cheek. Dean closed his eyes, and the wounds which had dotted his body now dissipated to nothing more than scars and dried blood on his clothes. Dean leaned into the touch. He didn’t mean to; it was a habit now, more than anything. Cas didn’t move his hand until Dean jerked away, suddenly aware of himself.

Cas bit his lip and moved away, healing Sam by a mere touch on the shoulder. There was a moment of silence, before Sam asked, “Is there beer in the trunk?”

“Hell yes,” Dean groaned.

_Like a rock_

_I was strong as I could be_

_Like a rock_

_Nothin’ ever got to me_

Dean sat on the edge of the hood, Cas to one side and Sam to the other. Yes, he ached everywhere in a way that angel mojo wasn’t gonna get rid of, but damn if he didn’t feel good. Judging by Cas’ rare grin and Sam’s sigh of contentment, the feeling was mutual. The bad guys were dead. He had his brother alive and well, and he had his… he had Cas.

“I missed this,” Dean cast the words into the silence.

“Yeah. Me too.” Sam smiled.

“So… how’re things with Eileen?” It’d occurred to Dean that his brother disappeared for weeks with the chick without him really knowing what the hell was going on.

“Good.” Sam nodded. “We hunt together, mostly. She’s not big on the whole dating thing. I think her calling me in the first place was her sort of compromise. But we’re good.”

Dean took his brother’s meaning to be, _it’s complicated, but I like her in my sentimental puppy dog way._ “You banged yet?”

He could’ve sworn he heard Cas choking on his beer. Sam glared. “How’re things over here?”

Dean opened his mouth and shut it again. “Right,” he muttered. “Good. Real good.” He trailed off. Cas was watching the final embers of the sunset.

_Like a rock_

_I was something to see_

_Like a rock_

“Dean, I can’t come back with you guys,” Sam said while he opened his second beer.

“What?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna call you. There’s this hunt. Slash pilgrimage. It’s kind of complicated. Anyway, there’s this sort of… island of monsters and witches, in the middle of the Pacific. There’s loads about it in the Men of Letters archive. Basically you can only get to it by boat, which takes maybe a month each way. Eileen and a bunch of other hunters are going after it, and I wanna have her back.” Sam spoke without hesitation but gingerly, knowing the questions they must be stirring in Dean’s mind.

Dean nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. “And what, I’m not on the invite list for your monster hunt?”

“It’s warded against angels,” Sam lied. It was for Dean’s own sake. Maybe staying in the bunker alone with Cas for easily two months would break down his brother’s stubborn, emotionally constipated wall. He could tell from those casual touches, the way Cas’ fingers skimmed Dean’s when he handed Cas a beer; they were in love. And too stupid to get it.

“Right.” A year ago, that wouldn’t have been a problem. It would’ve been _See ya in six months, Cas, got a hunter thing. Have fun upstairs._ Now, things were different. “So, you and your girlfriend are going on a demon cruise. How, um, how long?” Dean asked, staring down at the dregs of his beer.

_And I stood arrow straight_

_Unencumbered by the weight_

_Of these hustlers and their schemes_

“Hopefully a little less than two months. Could be longer, though.” Sam chewed the inside of his cheek.

Dean nodded. “If you’re not home by Christmas, Cas is dragging your ass home.”

Sam laughed and Cas smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

Christmas alone with Cas was a strange concept. Sammy ought to be there. The Christmases when he was away at Stanford had been the most miserable ones.

“Speaking of which, the ship leaves tomorrow. Is there any chance you could, you know, zap me back?” Sam hated to ask. But he also thought Dean should get a chance to stay by the Grand Canyon for a little while longer.

“Of course.” Cas set his beer on the hood of the trunk and stood with his hand poised above Sam’s shoulder.

“See ya around,” Dean said. He’d kinda hoped Sam would stay for another beer. But that was that. He had a girl and a mission, and Dean had the Grand Canyon and an angel. Sam smiled and then abruptly vanished along with the flap of wings.

_I stood proud, I stood tall_

_High above it all_

_I still believed in my dreams_

Dean stood alone while the wistfully groaning guitar solo started up. Man, this song must have repeated like fifteen times by now. Slaying werewolves to Bob Seger. He could get used to that. Cas was gone longer than he expected. He drained another bottle of beer and watched the sky. Life was mostly good.

Except for how he was fucking burning to kiss Cas every time his damn blue eyes lit up. Dean wasn’t very good at this whole love thing, and was pretty sure that sex was the only surefire way he knew how to express it. But Cas was… Cas was an angel, and he wasn’t even sure if Cas felt things that way. He sure as hell didn’t want to make a move if Cas didn’t want him to. Cas had said that he wanted to, and that that was the problem. Which frankly hadn’t made any sense. And then Cas he’d said he fucked up everything good. That he could relate to. He didn’t know what to do, what he even could do. The guitar sang lightly now, high and resonant. Dean sighed and closed his eyes.

_Twenty years now, where’d they go?_

_Twenty years, I don’t know_

_I sit and I wonder sometimes_

_Where they’ve gone_

When he opened them again, Cas was standing next to him. Without speaking, they stood side by side, shoulders touching. “Man, this song used to make me feel old, you know?” Dean said finally.

“I like Bob Seger.” The phrase sounded alien, and a little bit too much like a seventies teenie- bopper for Cas. “His music is… it feels like home. Not my home, of course. But someone’s home.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah.” He paused. “Exactly.”

_And sometimes late at night_

_Oh when I’m bathed in the firelight_

_The moon comes callin' and a ghostly white_

_And I recall, I recall_

_Like a rock_

“What does it make you feel now?” Cas asked suddenly. “You said it used to make you feel old.”

“I dunno, man.” Staring out over the marbled orange expanse, though, he did know. “I guess I feel strong. Like a rock.” His lips quirked into a half smile. “It’s not a bad feeling.” He muttered.

Cas’ smile was subtle. “You are.” When Dean blinked, not understanding, he added, “Strong.”

_Standing arrow straight_

_Like a rock_

_Charging from the gate_

_Like a rock_

Dean laughed quietly.

“I mean it,” Cas said, more aggressively now.

“No, I know.” His voice was soft. “I… fuck, Cas.” His smile twisted as he stared into Cas’ frank blue eyes. “I mean, uh, thank you.”

Cas smirked and intertwined their fingers. Dean scarcely dared to glance at their firmly clasped hands, in case he was just imagining things and checking would make it go away. The sun was gone, but the sky was orange and red-streaked. His heart was pounding fast, and he was sure Cas must be able to feel it through where he clasped his wrist. Funny, how he’d never known what falling in love felt like before. Funny, how he knew what it felt like now. Well, it was more like crashing into love, but that was all right with him.

_Carrying the weight_

_Like a rock_

_Oh, like a rock_

_The sun upon my skin_

“Dean.” Cas’ gravelly voice demanded his attention.

“Yeah?” For some reason he couldn’t bear to speak in more than a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb the air, as it had settled so peacefully around them. Damnit. Cas’ cheeks were flushed, hair windblown. He was wearing that painfully serious look that Dean just wanted to wipe off his face by grabbing his collar and pulling him close and –

“I’ve come to a realization.” The angel announced. Dean struggled to keep his thoughts straight. The cool evening wind blew his tie astray, and Dean rolled his eyes. Only Cas would wear a tie on a hunt.

“OK.” The two syllables were an invitation, and they both knew that.

“Well, that’s not strictly true. I knew this a long time ago. But I’d like to confess something to you.” Cas’ dark eyes gave away nothing, just fixed firmly on Dean. “I love you.”

_Like a rock_

_Hard against the wind_

_Like a rock_

_I see myself again_

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean blinked, and blinked again until the world looked a little clearer. He was pretty sure _I love you, Cas_ should have been his first words, but he never was very good at talking. He opened his mouth to correct it and found that no sound came out.

“I don’t expect you to say anything. I just thought… well, I can hear your prayers, Dean. Your longing.” Dean swallowed. “I thought it only fair you should know both sides of it.”

“So…” His voice was hoarse, and he thought his heart might jump out of his chest. He’d come to terms with the fact he loved Cas, he’d thought about kissing him and everything else under the sun, he’d said more than once that he needed Cas. But he’d never really thought Cas would ever say those goddamn three words.

“So. I haven’t really thought this part through. We can pretend this never happened if you’d like, and go back to how things were. Or we can… see what happens and fuck the consequences.” Dean let out a startled laugh and Cas smiled sheepishly. The tension in the air was gone.

“I think I like Plan Fuck the Consequences,” Dean murmured, and he reached for Cas’ other hand with his free one.

_Like a rock_

_Oh, like a rock_

There was a chill buried in the warm night air, a promise of snow to come; there was a lone bird flying overhead; there was a pounding in his chest and a soft sigh from Cas’ lips; the guitar screamed to an end; there was utter stillness around them when Dean finally kissed Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: yes, things will get physical between them soon. Sometimes all it takes is a little snow...


	17. Feel Like Makin' Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It snows and Dean and Castiel enjoy a little Bad Company ;)  
> Bad Company - Feel Like Makin' Love  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEuKkcX1uKA

Dean blinked his eyes open. The room was blurry. He pulled the blanket which had slipped down to his waist during the night up to his neck and sighed. They’d driven back to the bunker in a dry run. Dean wanted them to be home. His lips twitched involuntarily as he remembered their kiss in the Grand Canyon. It hadn’t been like their first kiss, explorative and sweet. They’d both known what they wanted this time. He supposed it should’ve been obvious that kissing Cas wouldn’t be like kissing women, but it hadn’t really occurred to him. He’d yanked Dean closer to him by the lapels of his leather jacket until their bodies crashed together. Dean ran a hand over his chin, wincing at where Cas’ stubble had grazed against his chin. He smiled, running his fingers over his lips. Cas kissed like an animal fighting for air, sometimes growling in the back of his throat when their tongues met.

Dean let out a breath. He discarded the duvet and swung his legs over the bed. The curtain was open, letting morning light spill through the window and fall onto a rather rumpled looking angel where he sat on one of the weapons trunks. “Cas?” Dean’s voice cracked. Why was Cas in his room? He didn’t remember… they hadn’t…? He took stock of the fact he was fully clothed in clean jeans and a t-shirt and that Cas was wearing his trench coat. No. Right.

Cas tilted his head to one side. He put down the old paperback he’d been reading. “I said I’d watch over you.”

“Right.” Dean stood still, running a hand through his hair. Cas gazed up at him steadily. He had to admit, at this point he was used to waking up to Cas staring at him. There was just something curiously domestic about the way he now read a book while at it. Whatever. “So, uh, what happened last night?” He finally ventured.

Cas smiled down at his hands. “You don’t remember.”

“No.” Dean gulped.

“Well, you were exhausted. Driving for three days without sleeping was very foolish.” Dean rolled his eyes. “So, I made what you said was the worst hot chocolate you’d ever tasted and you went to sleep.”

Dean sputtered. “What?! You’re a terrible liar.”

“Dean, that’s the truth.” Cas frowned.

“Hot chocolate,” Dean muttered. He walked to the window. “You’re telling me that’s all that happened.”

Cas shifted uncomfortably. “You got in the shower for a very long time-” Dean tried to control the blush that was steadily spreading along his cheeks – “and then came out to see where I was.”

Dean had a feeling this story was about to go South.

“I believe you said something about not going to bed until you’d goddamn kissed me goodnight.” Cas dropped his exaggerated air quote fingers while Dean closed his eyes. Fuck, he was starting to remember that. The worst part about his entire life becoming a chickflick was that he didn’t even seem to mind that much.

“Cas!” He exclaimed suddenly. “You were so busy reading your damn book you never looked out the window?”

“Watching over you,” Cas mumbled, but stood by Dean.

“It’s fucking snowing, angel.” Stupid nickname. He thought he caught a small smile flicker across Cas’ face before he pressed his nose up to the glass like a little kid. “Come on, we’re going out.”

Dean threw on his jacket as they ran out the door. The thick snow already on the ground crunched underfoot. Cas had run a few feet ahead of him before stopping and staring up at the sky. Fat flakes flurried down, falling on his cheeks and melting. The angel spun around, catching some of the snowflakes in his palm before he watched them dissolve and wiped his hands on his coat, mystified. Dean’s breath seemed to have abandoned him. Man, this whole love thing seemed to involve a whole lot of worrying that your chest might explode.

Dean knelt down to the ground and quickly scooped up some snow. It was so cold it stung his fingers, but he packed it as best he could. When Cas was looking away, he tossed it quickly. He let out a low whistle. Perfect aim. It’d hit the angel square in the chest, and Cas turned to look down at it, brushing flakes away while he considered it curiously. A few moments later, he seemed to realize that Dean had thrown it and turned to glower at him. Fuck, he’d forgotten that badass stare. Yeah, the one the last person that gave him that look, he’d gotten laid. He laughed as Cas tried to throw a handful of snow at him.

“C’mere,” he said, kneeling down. “You gotta pack it like this.” Cas studied how his hands moved carefully before mimicking it, forming a perfectly made snowball. “Yeah, just like-” Dean’s words were cut off with a mouthful of snow. His face stung. He shook his hair, releasing a flurry of white, before wiping the snow off best he could. Cas was smirking. Dean grimly packed a second snowball in record time, but when he spun to throw it at Cas, there was a flap of wings and the angel was gone. “That’s cheating!” He protested. But he set off into the forest to look for Cas.

He found the angel leaning against where they’d parked the Impala quickly, when it had been easier to get into than the garage. He snuck up behind the angel as best he could, but just when he was about to drop the snowball inside the collar of his trench coat, Cas spun around and caught his hand. “Really not fair,” Dean panted.

Cas grinned. “I like this game.”

“Only because you cheat.” Dean muttered. Cas was still holding his wrist, though the snowball had fallen to the ground.

“No, I’m merely-” Dean cut him off with a quick kiss. He pulled back, watching Cas trying to remember what he’d been saying. A thin stream of what looked like smoke but what Dean knew was just his breath drifted out from between his parted lips. His cheeks were pink; he must have been letting go of his control over his vessel. Something in Dean’s stomach jumped. When Cas blinked, and just said, “Dean,” he took one step closer. They were maybe six inches apart, Cas’ back pressed to the Impala, Dean’s wrist still firmly clenched in Cas’ grip. Dean leaned forward, torturously slowly; Cas’ breath hitched. Dean smirked and finally let their lips touch. Fuck, how were his lips so soft? Cas moaned into the kiss, and Dean obliged, flicking his tongue slowly into Cas’ mouth. Cas dropped his hand, arms instead circling around his waist, pulling him closer. Not for the first time, Dean noticed how strong Cas was, lean muscle pressing against him through the fabric of their clothes.

Dean almost forgot about the snow falling around them, he was so wrapped up in Cas. He let out a soft sigh of frustration, pushing Cas’ trench coat off his shoulders. That was better. He shoved his own jacket to the floor before returning to his previous attentions. Their kisses were warm and wet and deep. Cas groaned and Dean’s eyes flickered shut. He could feel himself getting hard in his jeans, heart speeding up. Their bodies were perfectly flush. Dean couldn’t remember the last time they’d stopped to breathe.

He started in on the buttons of Cas’ forest green shirt without thinking about it. “Fuck,” he said suddenly, pulling back. His entire body screamed at the loss of contact. “Cas, I, uh, is this what you want?” The words poured out like the fog which accompanied them, smooth but stuttering at the same time. “What you need?” He amended, remembering their conversation on the rooftop.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, low and guttural, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

His eyes went wide for a moment before his fingers resumed their flurry of activity on Cas’ shirt. He let out a shaky breath as Cas let him guide it off the angel’s arms, until it fell to the ground and Cas was left standing in only his jeans, leaning against the Impala. Fuck, he was acting like a girl on their first time. Cas reached out for the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, and Dean raised his arms, letting Cas take his shirt off.

“Dean,” Cas breathed against his cheek. It wasn’t a question. Dean wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s waist, drawing him in until their bodies crashed together. Not that he’d admit it, but Dean moaned. They kissed fervently, biting and with Cas scratching up Dean’s back. Unable to help himself, Dean rolled his hips into Cas’, eliciting a groan. He traced his fingers over Cas’ shoulders and collarbone. “Fuck, Cas,” he murmured, almost reverently.

Cas snapped his fingers, and the Impala stereo crackled into existence, a high guitar riff making itself present. Dean laughed. “Is that…”

“Yes.” Cas answered stonily, before his lips gave way to a smirk.

_Baby, when I think about you I think about love  
Darlin’, don’t wanna live without you And your love_

Dean leaned in to kiss him again, but Cas turned away and growled, “You’re going to freeze to death.”

Reluctantly, Dean looked around at the snow. He grinned. “Get in the damn car then.”

Cas nodded, and they worked their way into the back seat, until Cas was all the way pressed up against the window and Dean was on top of him, their legs tangled together. Dean slammed the door. The music was loud in here, and Dean closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself take it in. Cas’ rough stubble against his skin, Paul Rogers’ sex incarnate voice washing over him. Cas was having none of that, though, and Dean gasped as he felt the angel’s lips, warm and wet and sucking a damn _hickey_ onto his neck.

 _If I had those golden dreams of my yesterday_  
_I would wrap you in their heaven_  
 _Til I'm dying on the way_

Dean firmly pushed Cas back against the wall of the car using a hand on his chest. The thought dimly occurred to him that there was no way he could’ve done that if Cas hadn’t let him. He kissed Cas once, rough and fast, before he started working his way lower. “Beautiful,” he muttered, not meaning to say it aloud. Then again, he had a feeling Cas might have heard it even if he’d only thought it. He kissed Cas’ collarbone, running a finger down his chest, over his nipples. Cas gasped and Dean smirked against his skin. He sucked a trail of angry, red marks down to Cas’ nipples, where he paused to brush his lips over them teasingly. Then he drew one of them into his mouth, sucking them up before biting down hard. Another wordless moan from Cas. He soothed them with kitten licks, circling his tongue round the pebbled flesh before moving lower. He ran his hands over Cas’ subtly muscled chest. Fuck, he was fucking perfect. His trail of hickeys ended at the angel’s navel, where he paused to palm Cas through his jeans.

“Dean,” Cas begged. He was rock hard already, and rolled his hips up against Dean’s hand.

Dean paused to look up at him, and the hunter’s breath caught in his throat. The white light from the window washed over the angel’s chest, and shadows passed over him as snowflakes drifted by. His lips were slightly parted, blue eyes wide and staring deep into Dean’s. Dean thought he ought to say something, but he didn’t know what or how.

Instead, he undid Cas’ belt, sliding the angel’s jeans down and throwing them in a heap in the front seat. Cas’ boxers followed, until he could see all of Castiel, spread out before him, from the stupidly ruffled hair to his erect cock. Dean swallowed. He’d never done this before, but that was Cas, and that made it… profound, he guessed.

 _Feel like making, feel like making love_  
_Feel like making, feel like making love_  
 _Feel like making love to you_

He gripped Cas’ cock lightly around the base and looked directly up into the angel’s eyes as his lips formed an O and he took it in his mouth. Cas moaned loudly and Dean hummed with approval. He stayed there for a moment, letting Cas’ dick hang hot and heavy in his mouth, before bobbing his head up and down the length of Cas’ shaft, taking as much as he could. Cas groaned, and Dean wondered if he was the first one ever to do this to him. His own dick ached against his jeans, straining and begging to be touched. He ignored it, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Cas. He looked… awestruck. Reverent.

Sometimes the angel’s eyes flickered shut, when the pleasure got too much, or when he moaned, but they always returned to meet Dean’s gaze. Dean occasionally stopped to flick his tongue around the head of Cas’ penis, licking along the slit before taking him in his mouth again. Cas’ hand came up to rest in Dean’s hair, fingers tangling and pulling there. Dean ran his own hands along the length of Cas’ body while he sucked Cas’ dick, often coming back to circle along his thighs or to caress his hipbones. His fingers tightened in Dean’s hair, pulling almost to the point of being painful. Dean growled around Cas’ dick, making the angel sigh. He knew Cas was getting close, and he pulled off.

Cas whispered his name, almost begging. “Dean.”

_Baby, if I think about you I think about love  
Darlin’, if I live without you I live without love_

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but instead he rose up from where he knelt between Cas’ legs, kissing Cas on the mouth long and hard. He grasped Cas’ cock and stroked up and down while he kissed Cas’ neck slowly. When he looked back up to meet Cas’ eyes, they were closed, his head falling back against the window. Dean gasped. The shadows of Cas’ wings, sprouting from his shoulders and falling wide over the car seats, were clearly visible, dark in the snow-tangled light.

Dean knelt again, feeling the leather bend under his knees, and whispered, “I need you.” Then he took the angel’s length in his mouth without warning. Cas moaned, long and low, before reaching up with one arm. His fingers found the handprint he’d left in Dean’s shoulder so long ago, and his nails dug in. Dean could feel how close Cas was, the muscles in his thighs clenching, and Dean licked along the underside of his lover’s cock, watching Cas shudder.

He went faster now, sliding his lips up and down determinedly, fisting what he couldn’t take in his mouth. Cas panted, moaning softly. It just struck him how fucking unique this was, an angel, willingly exposed and almost letting his wings show, making love to a hunter, a broken human, just because they needed each other –

Castiel’s eyes flew wide open. “Dean,” he gasped, before wordless cries of pleasure took over. Dean firmly took hold of Cas’ hips, bucking as they were, and increased his pace, hot ropes of cum springing into his mouth. He could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of real feathers for a moment, as Cas’ nails dug deep enough into his shoulder to draw blood.

 _And if I had the sun and moon, they were shinin’  
I would give you, both night and day  
_ _Love satisfying_

When it was over, and Dean had lazily kissed his way up to Cas’ neck, the angel pressed a kiss into his hair, just like he’d done that drunken night. Dean groaned; he couldn’t help it, he was rock hard and aching for touch, any touch. Cas studied him intently for a moment, before unbuckling Dean’s jeans. Dean pulled them down past his ankles and let them too be thrown somewhere on the floor. Cas bit his lip, staring at Dean’s cock where it rested against his stomach, looking him up and down. Dean should’ve felt vulnerable. He didn’t.

“Tell me what you want,” Cas said in a low voice, bracing himself up on his arms so he was under where Dean knelt, his head coming up to Dean’s chin.

Dean tilted Cas’ face up to him with a single finger under his chin. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

 _Feel like making, feel like making love_  
_Feel like making love, feel like making love_  
 _Feel like making love to you_

“Turn around,” Dean ordered softly. Cas obliged, and Dean licked his lips. He ran a single finger down Cas’ spine, reminding himself that he had to take his time. He cupped the cheeks of Cas’ ass in both hands, parting them gently before innocently licking the pink furl of muscle. Cas whimpered, and Dean started in on his sweet, sweet work. He thrust his tongue in and out of the tight hole, before stopping to wet one of his fingers. He put it in slowly, enjoying the sharp hiss it produced when he found his mark. He started in on a come hither motion, circling around Cas’ prostate.

“Dean,” Cas breathed. His name sounded like a prayer on Cas’ lips. He added a second finger. Cas gritted his teeth, but began bucking his hips back, fucking himself on Dean’s fingers. Dean’s dick jumped at the sight, and he tried to steady himself. Dean Winchester had nothing if not stamina. He kissed along Cas’ back to distract from the burn of adding another finger. To his surprise, he found Cas was half hard again. Maybe the whole total control over his vessel really could come in handy. “Dean.” It was a growl this time. “I need you.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, before wetting his palms and cock. “I know, angel.”

 _And if I had those golden dreams of my yesterday_  
_I would wrap you in their heaven_  
 _Til I'm dying on the way_

He pushed in gently, letting out a long, utterly deserved moan as the tight, wet heat surrounded him. For a moment, he could barely think. He didn’t stop until he was balls deep in Cas, and then it was only for a second, just to savor the feeling. He could feel Cas’ heaving breaths against his chest, the ache where Cas’ nails had dug into the handprint, and the hot, heavy feeling of everything that was _Cas_. Then he started moving, working up a slow rhythm that didn’t stick for long before he was snapping his hips into Cas, smiling at the cries Cas let out.

 _Feel like making, feel like making love_  
_Feel like making love, feel like making love_  
 _Feel like making love to you_

He gripped Cas’ cock in one hand, stroking him until he was fully hard. Dean knew he couldn’t last long, not with how perfectly tantalizing this felt. They were hungry for each other, consummating the years of longing and prayer and pain, and no matter how much they got of each other, they’d still need more.

_Well I feel like making love, yeah I feel like making love  
And I feel like making love, feel like making love to you_

Fuck, he was losing it to the heat spreading through his stomach, to the pure feel of it all. He tried to hold back. He’d wanted to fuck Cas while he came. Dean moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” The words were hoarse, pure.

“Dean,” Cas growled in answer. He could see the shadows of Cas’ wings again, folding out in the air underneath him.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. The pleasure was building inside him, and he panted hard, wishing he could feel this for just a little longer, that blissful heat, clinging onto Cas, everything ramping up until it was too much –

Cas cried out beneath him, bringing him back to the present. “Dean,” he whispered over and over again. Dean growled, feeling the angel clench around him. He knew what that meant. He thrust into Cas harder, faster, letting the pleasure explode through him as they came together. He saw stars and angel wings on the back of his eyelids, every fibre of his being lost in Cas and crying out in ecstasy.

_Well I feel like making love, well I feel like making love  
Yeah I feel like making love, feel like making love to you_

Dean took Cas in his arms afterwards. Cas’ head found its own special spot between Dean’s neck and his shoulder, and Dean ran a hand absently through the angel’s black hair. Even though Cas was the one in his arms, it still felt somehow like he was being held. Funny. Could he make out wing shadows folding around them? Maybe.

“Cas,” he whispered into Cas’ ear.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas’ breath tickled Dean’s chest.

Dean didn’t say anything, just held Castiel even tighter. Maybe later he’d worry about the right thing to say, or what this meant – but then he knew exactly what this meant – or about finding their clothes, or about the seat upholstery, or about the blizzard outside, but he wouldn’t think about it just now. For just now, they’d said all there was to say. The light, which played over them so gently, had turned blue. It was cold outside, but they were warm, pressed together like nothing existed either after today or outside the car.

_Well I feel like making love, well I feel like making love  
And I feel like making love, feel like making love to you_


	18. Wild Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean introduces Cas to the Rolling Stones ;)  
> Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNaqBBjrIZw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story isn't going to devolve into meaningless smut. It's just going to have a lot of meaningful smut. Don't they deserve it after all this? Enjoy ;)

Dean woke up all at once, sleep vanishing in the blink of an eye. He didn’t jerk awake, or sit up, though. He stayed still, the leather of the Impala’s seats pressing against his back, Cas’ bare chest rising and falling against his own. The snow had mostly let up, but a few solitary flakes drifted down. Dean closed his eyes. It wasn’t often he felt like this. Peaceful.

Cas was awake, of course. Angels didn’t sleep. “Cas?” Dean asked quietly.

Cas made a noise which was either a moan or some kind of confirmation that he was indeed there, and nuzzled closer. Dean chuckled. He was more than happy in the silence. Possibly because he’d always felt words caused trouble, or maybe just because he was in the silence with Cas.

Eventually, he spoke. “You wanna go inside?” His words were so soft it was like he’d barely spoken at all, but it was such a relief, to find that speaking didn’t shatter that beautiful calm that had settled inside his chest.

All at once, the engine juddered to a halt, an assembled pile of clothes fell on the floor, and the only sign they’d been in the Impala at all was a slight rumple in the leather. Dean blinked. They were laying in his bed in the bunker. Cas grinned lazily. “Coulda done that later,” Dean muttered, but he started grinning too. Cas was in his bed. Because he had one of those now. A bed, and a home, and someplace to shelter from the storm outside, and Castiel. It was too good to be true, Dean knew that. But he thought after everything he was due a little peace. At least for this afternoon, he told himself.

Reluctantly, he untangled himself from Cas’ embrace, and walked to the cassette desk. “Realized I’d never played you The Rolling Stones,” he muttered. He bit his lip. Was the saddest love song he knew really such a good idea? But somehow, it felt like the right thing. He pressed play. When he turned around, Cas was standing face to face. Dean’s eyes travelled up and down the angel’s naked body. “I was thinking,” he began. “I’ve been teaching you about human stuff. Or trying, anyway.” Cas nodded. “You know what we did last night?”

“Sex, Dean.” Cas informed him helpfully.

“Yes, that.” Dean sighed.

“Dean, if you try to tell me that was purely for educational purposes, I will use the Enochian curse reserved for liars. You don’t want to know what that does.” Cas raised a single eyebrow.

Dean laughed. “No. That’s not what I meant.” He circled his arms around Cas’ waist, and drew him close. “I care about you. I need you. You know that.” Those choked out, hoarse words were as close to an _I love you_ as he could get. “What I meant,” he said running his fingers over Cas’ shoulderblades and watching him close his eyes and shiver, “Is that I want to show you _all_ the human stuff.” When Cas didn’t say anything, he whispered into Cas’ ear huskily, “I want to show you all the ways you can feel.”

_Childhood living_

_It’s easy to do_

_The things you wanted_

_I bought them for you_

Cas opened his eyes. Well, that had been phrased a lot better than _hey Cas, I want you to screw me senseless._ “Tell me what to do.” The words were an invitation, hanging in the inch between their lips, that Dean accepted. Dean wondered if he should tell the angel he was just as new to all this as Cas was. Last night had been improv and logic and listening to Cas’ moans for direction. He’d never slept with guys before, and he supposed strictly speaking, Cas wasn’t a guy.

Dean kissed Cas, and let himself melt into the other man. They kissed for easily an hour, slow and soft, until they were both hard and Dean remembered his earlier intention. He rutted his hips into Cas, enjoying the brazen moan it produced. “Come here.” He let Cas push him back onto the bed, and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. Cas put a finger to his lips as he made to say something else. He was running his hands over every inch of Dean’s body, more gentle than Dean wished he would. It was like he was contemplating Dean’s skin and muscles and bone like they were some kind of miracle. That reverent look again.

_Graceless lady_

_You know who I am_

_You know I can’t let you_

_Slide through my hands_

“Cas,” Dean said through gritted teeth when he couldn’t take it anymore. Cas’ eyes snapped back to him, intent once more. He sat up, kissing Cas hard, biting and sucking his bottom lip. “Fuck me,” he whispered. He’d never thought he’d be doing this. Ever. Like, really, ever. On the rare occasions he’d wondered what having sex with a guy would be like, he’d always thought he’d be the one on top. He’d always thought, fuck, wouldn’t that hurt? Somehow Cas made everything different though. It wasn’t about the fact he was having sex with a guy, or who was on top or who was on the bottom, it was just about him and Cas.

Dean knelt with his back to Cas, letting Cas suck a trail of red marks down his back. Cas sure was fond of hickeys, and fuck if it didn’t feel good. “You gotta open me up,” he said, remembering Cas didn’t know how to do this. “There’s, ah, lube in the drawer,” he gestured, distracted by Cas cupping a hand under his balls. He waited, wishing he could see what the angel was doing, while he heard the pop of the bottle cap. A second later, he felt the cool, slick press of Cas’ finger as his entrance. He moaned, surprised at how good it felt. Cas went slow, and Dean knew he must be wearing that pondering expression. The thought twisted his lips into a smile.

_Wild horses couldn’t drag me away_

_Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away_

He started swearing as soon as the tentative yet determined finger found his prostate. Cas added a second finger, and stroked the over-sensitive spot mercilessly. Dean knew he was moaning, begging, but he didn’t care. Screw whatever he’d thought before. He wanted, needed Cas. “Fuck, Cas, please,” he hissed. “Just fuck me.”

“No,” Cas growled behind him. Dean’s cock jumped at the low sound, and he remembered then that Cas was a fucking angel. Probably the most dangerous creature on earth. Dean laughed, and Cas kissed his neck. A third finger. Dean bucked his hips. “You’re not ready,” Cas added, more gently.

It burned, but it was a good pain. His dick ached against his stomach. “Cas,” he whispered.

“Dean,” Cas answered. No matter what filthy things they did, Cas said his name like it was something holy. Dean moaned loudly at the fourth finger. He wanted Cas. Needed him so damn bad.

_I watched you suffer_

_A dull aching pain_

_Now you decided_

_To show me the same_

“Fuck,” Dean whined at the loss of Cas’ fingers. He felt so damn empty. God, he could barely stand not being able to see Cas. He couldn’t feel him, either. Dean could have been alone on the bed, sweating and hard. As he heard the lube bottle open again, though, he knew he just had to wait. He pictured Cas sliding a slick hand over his penis, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice came softly from behind him, but with an edge to it. Dean dimly realized that Cas never said anything else during sex. He moaned, but he never swore or said anything. Just Dean’s name.

Dean cried out, low and needy. Cas was pushing in slowly, too slow. It hurt, but he needed more. “Need you,” he begged in a cracking voice. Cas’ hand found its print, and he pulled Dean back towards him until he bottomed out. Cas moaned, lingering there. Dean tried to stay still, to let him have that moment of utter bliss, but before long he bucked his hips, wanting more. Cas started thrusting, still slow but hard and steady.

_No sweeping exits_

_Or off stage lights_

_Could make me be bitter_

_Or treat you unkind_

Cas was inside him. This was the realization Dean couldn’t quite come to terms with or dispel as Cas fucked him, and so it lingered, playing over and over again. Cas reached around with his other hand, and started stroking Dean’s cock. Dean groaned. He could already feel the pleasure building in his stomach, but he didn’t want this to end. Cas was fucking him hard and fast, and each thrust struck just the right spot. His fingers twisted in the sheets. He wished he could touch Cas, but this was almost better, Cas touching him in every way possible. He gasped when he felt sharp teeth and a hot, wet tongue across his shoulder. “Oh, angel,” he moaned sinfully. Skin slapped on skin, and Dean’s hole was wet and slick, and Cas was so deep inside him.

_Wild horses couldn’t drag me away_

_Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away_

Dean swore. Hot ecstasy was pooling in his stomach, begging for release. He knew he couldn’t hold back any more, hot with Cas’ rough thrusts inside him and the way Cas jerked him off. “Cas,” Dean growled. His eyes went wide. He could see wing shadows underneath him He blinked in confusion, almost distracted by the building anticipation in his groin. And fuck, he could feel feathers curling around him, holding him. Cas’ wings were not quite here, but not quite there either. Dean loved seeing the shadows, because those familiar black outlines meant that Cas was losing control, letting part of his true form through.

_I know I’ve dreamed you_

_A sin and a lie_

_I have my freedom_

_But I don’t have much time_

That was what undid him, that final feeling of being held close while Cas was inside him, while Cas let his wings show, and he cried out _Castiel_. Hot waves of bliss rolled through him with every hard, rough thrust, and he moaned and swore and still Cas held him, fucking him and milking him for every last cry of pleasure. Dean’s eyes were squeezed shut, and there was nothing, nothing except his angel. As he came back to his senses, back to the ground, he knew Cas must be wearing that over-sexed half smile behind his back while he pressed kisses along the hunter’s spine. Cas was still thrusting inside of him, and it was more than Dean could take. His prostate was unbearably sensitive, the helpless pleasure as Cas still struck it unbelievable. He didn’t want this to end, either, but he thought he might be about to pass out, Cas’ firm grip the only thing holding him up.

Actually, he did want this to end. He wanted Cas to cum inside him, and say his name and feel the ecstasy Dean had already felt. He clenched involuntarily just thinking about it, and heard Cas groan. The angel was panting hard, saying Dean’s name under his breath. “I need you,” Dean whispered. Cas’ answering moan was helpless, and he bucked into Dean even harder. Dean closed his eyes. “I need you. Cas, need you,” he groaned, “Inside me, Cas. Need you to feel so good.” He grinned wickedly. He knew his words had to be pushing Cas over the edge, and he kept talking hoarsely, breathlessly. “Castiel. Cas. I _need_ you.”

_Faith has been broken_

_Tears must be cried_

_Let’s do some living_

_After we die_

Cas cried out, Dean’s name on his lips. Dean nearly screamed as the angel came inside him, fucking him so hard it hurt, hot wet cum inside him.

“Dean.” The word was broken, and Cas slumped against him, pulling out as gently as he could. Dean hissed, and turned round, kneeling, so he was facing Cas. His legs shook. He took Cas’ face in both hands, kissed the shaking, sweaty angel once, and pulled Cas down on top of Dean. Their bodies fell together perfectly. Through half closed eyelashes, he stared up at the white ceiling. Cas was peppering his collarbone and neck with tender, open-mouthed kisses. Dean ran a hand through Cas’ fluffy black hair. They’d talk. Soon. He’d given himself this afternoon, though, and so he wrapped his arms around Cas and let the stillness wash over him.

_Wild horses couldn’t drag me away_

_Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day_


	19. Annie's Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Denver - Annie's Song  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C21G2OkHEYo

Dean didn’t sleep after they made love. Instead, he stayed still, feeling Cas’ heart beat against his. The angel’s eyes were closed. Late afternoon light flooded over them, casting shadows across their intertwined bodies. He mapped out Cas’ back with his fingertips, and was rewarded with the occasional light moan or sharp breath. Touching Cas came so naturally. Maybe it was because Cas had rebuilt him and touched his soul after hell. Dean didn’t know. There were a thousand reasons it shouldn’t have been this perfect, this easy. From his own inherent emotional constipation and theoretical heterosexuality to Cas’ angel status to the fucked up world they lived in; this should never have been possible. Somehow, though, the possibility for this, the bond they had had survived it all. He supposed it hadn’t been easy. Hell, purgatory, heaven and death and responsibilities and questions… no. It hadn’t been easy. If Dean hadn’t been such an advocate of free will, of making your own destiny, he might’ve thought it felt like it was meant to be.

He opened his mouth to say something. Anything. He needed to say something. “Cas,” he tried, seeing how the word would echo through the silence.

Cas smiled against his chest, but didn’t open his eyes.

Dean continued. _I love you_. Yes, those were the words he wanted to say. They stuck in his throat. “Maybe we should talk.”

Finally, Cas’ eyes flickered open. His mouth twisted in a lazy half smirk. “What do you want to talk about?” As an afterthought, he added, running a finger down the center of Dean’s chest, “Haven’t we already said everything there is to say?”

Some of the tension went out of Dean’s body. That was how he felt. Not about sex in general; sex in general was hella fun but meaningless. With him and Cas, though, every touch was a promise, a declaration. And the red marks they left on one another lasted longer than any words would have, because words disappeared when the breath they were fuelled on dissipated. There were some things that he needed to sort out, though. “Right… right. But I guess we should talk about what this means.” His voice cracked on the word means, because he thought they already knew what it meant, but somehow he needed Cas to say it.

Cas propped his head up on an elbow and squinted. “It means I love you and you want me and I want you,” he answered in a gravelly tone.

Dean blinked. How simple the angel made it sound. He supposed that was exactly where they stood.

“If you’re inquiring about our ‘relationship status’-” Cas made his infamous airquotes and continued, “Then I believe there aren’t quite descriptive terms.”

Dean smiled. He liked morning after Cas. He was freer.

Then he noticed the tinge of fear in Cas’ eyes, and cupped the angel’s face with a hand. “Hey. What is it?”

Cas cleared his throat. “Is this about your… hook-ups?” The word sounded foreign and horrible on his tongue, and he avoided Dean’s gaze. “Do you want-”

“No!” Dean burst out as he realized what Cas was asking. “Cas, no.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him, so he lifted the angel’s chin with his other hand, before cupping both sides of his face and kissing him hard. “I don’t want anyone else, OK?!” He ran his tongue over his lips, desperate to make Cas understand. Cas stared directly at him. “I just want you. For the rest of my godforsaken life. Only you, all right?”

Cas still was silent, and Dean dropped his hands all of a sudden. He felt exposed, emotions roiling in his stomach. “Fuck,” he said softly. He wanted to curl into a ball and pretend he hadn’t just dumped his guts in front of Cas.

He bit his lip, before finally turning to Cas. “Say something, damnit! Don’t just sit there.” Cas’ eyes widened at his harsh tone, and he drew back an inch or two. Dean turned his back to Cas, angry at the sudden silence. His hands shook. Stupid, stupid. Of course this wasn’t going to be all perfect, with Dean telling Cas he only wanted Cas for the rest of his idjit life, and Cas confessing his love all over again in turn. Maybe Cas didn’t even want that. “Fuck, of course you don’t feel that. You can’t even feel that,” he added bitterly.

There was a flap of wings, and suddenly Dean Winchester found himself alone and naked on his bed, closing his eyes and letting the regret well up.

He ran a thumb over the red marks on his chest and thighs, trying not to cry. He’d lost track of all the things he shouldn’t have done. It was maybe an hour later when Cas reappeared, clothed in black jeans and a rumpled blue, seventies style shirt. Dean glared at his back. He was fussing with the cassette desk, of all things. Not a hello. Just straight in, pushing buttons and whatnot. Dean got up, glad he’d at least put on boxers and jeans.

He reached for his shirt where it lay in a pile on the floor, but Cas appeared in front of him and stood immobile. Dean tried to stop his bottom lip quivering. Why the fuck was the angel so stony-faced? Would it kill him to show some emotion for once? Any clue of what went on in there? Dean cursed as a single tear slid down his face, but reaching up to wipe it away would be a different kind of concession, one which he wasn’t ready to make. It said, you not only get to see me at my most vulnerable, but you get to see my poor attempt at covering it up. No thanks.

All of a sudden, Castiel’s face did change, and it did so dramatically. Tears welled up in those blue eyes, faster than Dean’s own, and his nose scrunched stupidly and his lips shook and there was all too much feeling there, almost more than Dean could bear to look at. Cas took a step forward and crashed against Dean, tangling his hands in the hunter’s hair, grabbing at his shoulders, kissing him desperately and too hard. Cas’ tears slid down Dean’s face.

_You fill up my senses_

_Like a night in the forest_

Dean let Cas kiss him, but he was more intent on wrapping his arms around the angel, drawing him in close and calming his frantic heartbeat. There was something breakable and yet so, so strong about Cas when he was like this. Dean felt guilt sweep him in a brief wave for thinking Cas didn’t feel anything like he did, and he gave himself over completely to their kisses. Dean’s eyes were closed, only flickering open briefly to catch a sliver of Cas’ dark lashes fluttering and blue eyes, maybe a triangle of his cheekbone if he was lucky. They melted together, and while Cas’ heartbeat still felt like a fluttering butterfly through the fabric against his bare skin, it wasn’t so wretchedly desperate. Cas was still crying, and their cheeks were both wet with tears. Dean didn’t want to wipe them away, they caught the light and shone and in an odd way, he loved them.

_Like the mountains in springtime_

_Like a walk in the rain_

_Like a storm in the desert_

_Like a sleepy blue ocean_

When they pulled away, Cas started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Dean watched him as he fumbled, still unused to it after all these years. “Is this… John Denver?” Dean asked slowly, as the music spun all around them softly.

“Yes.” Cas grinned, and his watery blue eyes lit up. “Dean,” he said, and now he shucked his shirt off and it was his turn to cup Dean’s face gently, “I wanted to say something. I did. But the only words that I could think of to describe myself were in Enochian.” Dean started to laugh, but Cas pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t. It’s true, you and I feel things differently. That doesn’t mean we don’t feel the same thing. Anyway, I had to find a way to tell you what I wanted to say. In words that wouldn’t shatter your eardrums.” Cas kissed Dean’s forehead, and when his eyes closed, his eyelids. Dean’s breath hitched in surprise, but he didn’t protest. It felt kind of… beautiful, actually.

_You fill up my senses_

“You fill up my senses.” Dean repeated, opening his eyes and studying Cas, trying to understand. “This song… this is how you feel?” A small smile was fighting its way onto his face.

Cas nodded and said solemnly. “You fill up my senses.”

_Come fill me again_

_Come let me love you_

_Let me give my life to you_

_Let me drown in your laughter_

_Let me die in your arms_

_Let me lay down beside you_

_Let me always be with you_

Dean caressed Cas’ shoulders, making circles along his collarbone. Cas’ lips parted and he leaned into Dean, but he kept talking. It was important, after all. “Dean, you remember when I told you that I felt every touch, all the time? It’s true. But I can feel more than that with you, and I don’t know why. When you touch me,” he paused, and the faintest tinge of a blush spread across his cheeks. “I can feel the intent behind it. And… your soul. It’s unfamiliar, to say the least. I don’t quite know what to make of it. It’s like your soul rises to the surface and every time you…” Dean ran a thumb over Cas’ nipple, teasing him and smiling into the hollow of his neck. Cas sighed softly. “I can feel your soul. And it’s beautiful, Dean. I can feel everything. I love you. You know that. This song is the closest I could come to finding the right words.”

“Sap,” Dean muttered into Cas’ skin. Cas frowned, and Dean wiped it away with a kiss. “What I’m trying to say,” Cas said, pushing Dean away with one finger, “Is that I want you. Now and forever, Dean Winchester.” His voice shook on the word forever, because that was exactly what he meant. For as long as Dean lived, and after that, and on, and on, and he’d never be able to stop, and he trembled in Dean’s arms with the sheer feeling of it.

_Come let me love you_

_Come love me again_

_Let me give my life to you_

_Let me love you_

_Come love me again_

Dean closed his eyes and felt the angel shake in his arms. He knew that feeling. Like your heart was being ripped out of your chest and you were falling backwards at the same time but you laughed while you watched it all happened and cried because you were happy. _I love you_ , he thought.

“I know.” Cas ran a hand down his back.

Dean opened his eyes suddenly, green and full of emotion. “You heard that?” His voice cracked.

“I always hear your prayers.” Cas let a half-smile play across his lips.

 _I love you_ , he thought again, stronger this time, and Cas grinned as Dean pushed him backwards and pinned him against the wall, kissing him as the angel’s shoulders shook with laughter.

_You fill up my senses_

“Dean,” Cas said, hand stopping to hover over his handprint. “I’m feeling something.”

Dean smirked wickedly and rolled his hips against the angel’s, pleased to find him already hard. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

Cas moaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

Dean reluctantly stopped to look the angel straight in the eye. “I’ve felt it before, but it’s so strong now, and I don’t know…”

“Describe it to me,” Dean said, reaching a hand down to palm Cas’ cock through his jeans.

Cas closed his eyes against the frustrating pleasure, but did as Dean bid. “My, ah, heart beats faster. I feel... light inside. Boundless. Maybe like my chest might explode.” He let out another broken cry as Dean rutted up against him. Dean was careful to listen to what he was saying, to look him in the eye as he talked. This wasn’t just about sex; how could it be?

“That’s joy, Cas.” Dean grinned, and pressed a kiss to Cas’ neck.

“Mm. Happens when I’m around you,” Cas said breathlessly.

Dean smiled, before starting to undo Cas’ belt. “And that’s part of love,” he whispered.

_Like a night in the forest_

_Like the mountains in springtime_

_Like a walk in the rain_

_Like a storm in the desert_

_Like a sleepy blue ocean_

Cas’ eyes were like the ocean on a sunny day, Dean reflected suddenly. And while he pulled Cas’ boxers to the floor and ran a hand lovingly along Cas’ length, he talked softly. “We’re gonna go to the mountains, Cas. Climb all the way up high, see the birds flying up close. Go so far up it’s just us, alone with the sky.” Cas gasped as Dean started to stroke him, and his fingers knotted in the hunter’s hair. “And when it’s spring, it’ll rain all the time. We’ll go out and walk in it, just to feel it on our skin. And I’ll kiss you in the rain like a stupid movie.” Cas moaned against Dean’s lips. His eyes were filled with rapture, and Dean couldn’t stop talking. “We’ll go to the ocean, too. You ever been to the ocean? We’ll watch the waves crash against the beach.” Dean himself was getting breathless now, hard in his jeans and so unbearably close to Cas. “We can walk through the forest, too. Not like the forest in purgatory, beautiful ones, just there for you and me. We’ll see the world.” He laughed a little and Cas groaned as Dean kissed down his torso. Underneath every breath, every touch, was a silent prayer. I love you.

_You fill up my senses_

_Come fill me again_


	20. Sweet Child O' Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Child O Mine, by Guns n Roses  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1w7OgIMMRc4

Dean put on the music and started to strip. He’d always loved this song. It was a few days later, and Cas sat on the edge of his bed, reading. Cas barely used his room anymore, and Dean liked their arrangement. He’d gotten used to the personal space invasion and creepy stares ages ago, and now it happened that they were welcome. They didn’t always talk, but there was an easy companionship between them. Cas liked Dean moving around the room as he read, and Dean liked Cas’ presence as he went about his daily tasks. The mind-blowing sex didn’t hurt either.

Cas’ eyes flicked up from his book when he saw Dean taking his shirt off. Cas was in one of Dean’s black t-shirts and his boxers. Dean stared him steadily in the eye as the guitar solo flowed around them, high and electric. Cas stood up, marking his place carefully before discarding his book. Dean smiled, and reached out to take Cas’ shirt off. Cas lifted his arms obligingly, and then Dean took the angel in his arms and kissed him. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

_She got a smile that it seems to me_

_Reminds me of childhood memories_

_Where everything was fresh as a bright blue sky_

“Dean,” Cas breathed at the gentle kisses Dean trailed along his neck.

“Mm,” Dean answered. His cock was half-hard in his jeans just from hearing Cas say his name like that. He pulled Cas’ hips toward his. He wanted them both aching for it before they started this time. Cas wasn’t impatient. His hands massaged Dean’s back as the hunter lay lazy kisses across his body. They wreathed around each other, not fixed to one point. Sometimes they were face to face, sometimes Dean circled round to kiss the back of Cas’ neck and shoulders, grinding up against his ass when the shorter man moaned. He ran one hand up his lover’s spine and over his shoulder blades, because Cas always shivered when he did that, while the other wrapped tenderly round Cas’ waist _._

Something changed when he pressed a hot, wet kiss to Cas’ shoulderblade. Cas arched his back and whined, his hand tightening over Dean’s. Dean paused, and did it again. Cas gasped his name, and Dean was suddenly rock hard. He palmed Cas through his boxers with the hand Cas wasn’t grasping, and found without surprise that he was too. He brushed his lips softly over the bone, wondering what it was about this spot that drove Cas crazy.

_Now and then when I see her face_

_She takes me away to that special place_

_And if I stared too long I’d probably break down and cry_

Dean spun Cas around, startling a laugh from him. He landed squarely in Dean’s arms, like an old time movie. An idea blossomed in his mind. “Cas,” he said breathlessly between kisses.

Cas moaned in response, grinding against Dean. Dean closed his eyes. God, he needed these jeans off. As if he’d read his mind, Cas reached down and unbuckled his belt. Fuck, was he using his teeth on the zipper? Angels learn fast. Dean groaned as Cas pulled down his jeans and boxers, finally cold air instead of rough fabric around his dick. Cas shoved him back towards the wall, and Dean blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cas shut him up with a kiss and a hand grasped around his hot, aching cock.

“Cas,” Dean tried again. He was curious now, and wanted to know the answer to his idea.

When Cas looked up at him with blue eyes darkened with lust, though, he caved. The angel was kneeling by his feet, and Dean knew he’d have his way with Cas just as soon as Cas had had his.

_Sweet child of mine_

_Oh, sweet love of mine_

Cas eyed his cock curiously for a moment, as if deciding how to proceed. Dean was about to warn him not to go too far before the angel opened his pink lips in an O and sank down on Dean’s cock, taking all of it in his mouth. “Fuck,” Dean swore. The wet heat of Cas’ mouth felt so good, he had to stop himself from thrusting forward. Cas was still staring him straight in the eye, and Dean twisted his fingers through Cas’ black hair, guiding him backward and forward. Cas got the idea and started bobbing his head along Dean’s shaft. Dean moaned. Cas’ thumb drew tiny circles along Dean’s hipbone.

Dean groaned in protest as Cas pulled off of his penis, but Cas only paused to lick one of his fingers. Dean spread his legs a little, knowing what Cas was about to do to him. He barely felt the burn, because Cas was swirling his tongue round the head of Dean’s dick. Filthy things were coming out of his mouth, he knew. Cas looked at him just the same no matter what he said. He clenched against the pleasure as Cas found the sweet spot inside of him, crooked his finger and stroked it mercilessly. Dean knew he couldn’t last long with this, not with Cas licking along his shaft and fucking him like there was no tomorrow.

_She got eyes of the bluest skies_

_As if they thought of rain_

_I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain_

Cas moaned, and Dean could feel the vibrations travelling along his dick. He cried out. Cas was going faster now, and Dean’s eyes were half closed. He was shaking with how close he was, the heat coiling in his stomach and begging for release, but he never wanted this to stop. Cas was worshipping his cock, eying Dean like he was something marvellous. It should’ve felt wrong, like he was corrupting an angel, but it felt perfect. Right. Cas moaned again, louder, and shoved a second finger into Dean’s tight hole. He blinked up at the hunter through hooded eyes, and Dean knew his soul must be laid bare.

He came hard, holding onto Cas like there was nothing else in the world. He lost track of time, until Cas pulled off of his now soft cock, swallowing curiously. Dean dropped to his knees almost immediately, and took the angel’s face in both hands, kissing him. He could taste himself on Cas’ swollen lips. He didn’t think anything had ever felt so good. Dean was so caught up in their gentle kisses he only just remembered about his earlier curiosity. He pulled away, and stood on shaking legs, pulling Cas up with him. He led Cas to the bed, and pulled away the boxers Cas still wore. Cas lay before him, panting and looking up at him, dick rock hard and begging for Dean’s attention. Dean crawled on top of him and started stroking too gently, teasing. Cas didn’t beg. He took whatever Dean gave him.

_It reminds me of a warm safe place_

_Where as a child I'd hide_

_And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by_

“Castiel,” Dean whispered in a husky voice.

“Dean,” Cas answered faithfully.

“Show me your wings.” The softly spoken words tumbled between them, sealed with a kiss. Cas stared at Dean for a moment. Dean continued his earlier teasing, sometimes just running a finger up the length of Cas’ dick. He knew the angel must be making a decision. He didn’t even know if what he’d asked was possible, but he thought it had to be. Cas could see his soul, and he wanted to see Cas’ wings. He was dying to sink down on his lover’s penis, to show Cas the same bliss Cas had given him before. But he wouldn’t, not yet.

There was a flash of light, and Dean wondered if he ought to have closed his eyes, but when he looked up at Cas, where he lay propped against too many pillows, dark gray wings spread out from his shoulders. Dean’s mouth fell open. They were beautiful. Cas stared straight at him, blue eyes blazing with the fire of heaven, tempered with trust. Dean thought he might break like glass under that look.

_Sweet child of mine_

_Oh, sweet child of mine_

_Oh, sweet child of mine_

Instead, he reached a hand up to stroke the heavy feathers. His fingers might have trembled, but they didn’t. Touching Cas was as sure as turning the key in the Impala’s ignition, and touching his wings were no different. Except, when he touched them, something like electricity ran through his fingers. He wondered if this was what it felt like when Cas touched his soul.

“Dean,” Cas murmured.

Dean started stroking Cas’ cock again, harder but still slow. Cas moaned as he kissed the feathers, explored them gently. His wings shook like the rest of him when Dean touched them, and he chanted Dean’s name under his breath. His eyes were gently shining with white light, and Dean knew he might have to close his eyes at a moment’s notice. He didn’t care. It was the most breath taking thing he’d ever seen.

He bent down to lick Cas’ shaft, but Cas pulled him up.

“No,” Cas rasped. “I – kiss me.” Dean obliged with wet, hot, biting kisses, one hand still skimming along Cas’ feathers. He jacked Cas faster, loving the way the angel’s cries filled the tiny space between them before Dean swallowed them with a kiss.

_Whoa, oh, oh, oh sweet love of mine_

_Whoa, oh, oh, oh sweet child of mine_

_Yeah, sweet child of mine_

Dean stared up unblinking as the light grew brighter. Cas would tell him if he had to close his eyes. Cas’ wings folded around them, and Dean shivered against his lips. The electricity flowed through both of them, and Dean gasped. Cas trembled under his touch, a sheen of sweat covering him. This mixture of angel and man, eyes shining with holy fire, wings spread out but shaking as Dean touched him and moaning, it was perfect. It was Cas. I love you, he thought, not trusting his voice to carry the words.

Cas cried out, coming hard over their chests, Dean’s name on his lips. Light filled the room, but not blindingly. It was gentle, almost caressing his skin as it spilled from Cas’ eyes. Dean grinned against his neck, stroking Cas until his shouts of ecstasy were whispers of, “I love you. _”_

_Where do we go now, where do we go?_

_Where do we go, where do we go now?_

_Sweet child of mine_

They lay like that together, ignoring the hot, sticky liquid between them, Cas’ wings wrapped firmly around Dean.

“So,” Dean said softly, “Do you like Guns ‘n’ Roses?”

Cas smiled at him like he’d just done something stupid but incredibly endearing. “Oh, Dean,” he whispered. Talking in their normal voices would have seemed wrong. Something holy had happened in this room, and they were in awe. Not holy like God, or Church, or the Bible, no, something sacred between them, like trust or love or rapture.

 


	21. When I Touch You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I Touch You, by Spirit  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z_e17GJ_Ao  
> This is my new favorite song, hope you like!

Snowflakes rested in Cas’ windblown hair, and the angel’s lips stretched with a laugh. Dean didn’t even remember what he was laughing at now. They’d spent the morning out in the snow, running after each other and rolling in it like the lovestruck idiots they were. They’d lay down and made snow angels, Cas doing so reflectively without grasping any of the irony. They’d kissed and walked in circles and looked around at the shining world.

Cas rested against the door, having insisted they go in when Dean was colder than he cared to admit. He was eyeing Dean with his head tilted to the side lazily, and Dean felt warm under his gaze. Dean stood straight, a small smile creeping across his face. Finally, water droplets running down his cheeks from melted snow, Cas said, “I love you.” He said it softly, and his words would’ve sounded shy, if they hadn’t carried that _I’m only telling the truth_ tone.

Dean didn’t know why he couldn’t bear to say it back. God knows he meant it, and wanted to say it, desperately. He’d prayed to Cas, told him a thousand times by now, along with whatever shit he mumbled in his sleep. But whenever he opened his mouth to let the actual _words_ out, they stuck sharply. It made him angry at himself. He wanted Cas to hear those words, hoarse and shaky but _real._ Instead, he smiled and turned away, starting up the cassette player. “Spirit were one of those classic groups that now nobody’s heard of,” he said like nothing had happened. In his mind, though, he was storing that memory away. Cas, leaning against the door in the dusky light, eyes sparkling as he said _I love you._ “And this song…” he laughed a little. “Well, I s’pose it makes me think of you. I’ve never been sure whether it’s happy or sad, but it’s a great song,” he finished abruptly, an idea forming.

_Often in my dreams_

_I see the strangest things_

_I see the mountains rise_

_I see them touch the skies_

Dean took Cas by the hand, and led him wordlessly to the shower. Cas broke the silence only once Dean had unbuttoned his shirt, to ask, “Dean, why are we in here?”

“There’s something else I have to show you,” Dean smirked, and ran a finger over Cas’ cheekbone, tracing down around his jaw before unbuckling his belt. Cas let Dean undress him, though the hunter hadn’t yet kissed him once. Cas wanted Dean, however he was and whatever he wanted. Dean let out a long breath, gaze rolling over Cas’ body. The man was beautiful. Dean pulled his own clothes off, ignoring Cas’ outstretched hands to help, and they stood facing each other, utterly naked. Dean knelt on the cold tiles. His eyes roamed hungrily from the angel’s thighs, covered in dark swirls of hair around his soft cock, up along his leanly muscled chest, pink nipples erect and begging for Dean’s attention, the delicate junction of the muscles of his neck and his collarbone, and those fucking eyes… Dean took the angel’s cock in his mouth, soft as it was, and Cas gasped. He was going to make Cas hard, and watch while he did it.

It didn’t take long. All sorts of unashamed noises flew out of Cas’ mouth; whispers, moans, grunts, whimpers, groans; and they all sounded heavenly to Dean as he worked until the angel’s dick was throbbing and stretching his lips.

_But when I'm near to you_

_I feel the same way too_

_I feel the mountains rise_

_I feel them touch the skies_

Dean stood, and their bodies crashed together. Dean moaned as Cas rolled their hips together, and they were both hard and desperate and panting. Dean reached into the shower and turned it on, music still softly permeating the walls. “Normally I’d say this is complicated,” Dean muttered into Cas’ ear, “But I think with us it’s gonna be good.”

“Yes, Dean, yes,” Cas whined. He would’ve said yes to anything.

They stepped backwards into the shower, and Cas gasped at the unexpected hot water cascading over them. Dean laughed a little, and ran a hand lovingly along the angel’s water slicked body. Cas had had enough of this slow game, and he grabbed Dean’s hips, desperate for that sweet collision. Dean grabbed the bottle of lube he’d brought in with him and said huskily, “Down on your knees. Need to open you up.”

He stroked Cas’ cock to make up for the loss of contact and hot water, sliding one slick finger in and watching Cas shiver. God, he’d never get enough of this. Cas’ ass was drizzled with lube, and so was his cock, and Dean could’ve teased him forever. He pumped three fingers in, delighting in the strangled cry it produced, and slowly circled one against Cas’ prostate.

 _“Dean.”_ Cas pleaded, and Dean smiled. His lover was ready.

_I, I won't see you any more_

_I, I won't see you any_

_I will not see you any_

_More, more, more_

Dean covered his own dick in lube, closing his eyes and resisting the urge to jack himself hard and fast until he got his release. He swallowed, and pulled Cas to his feet. The angel frowned, but let his eyelids flutter as water ran down his chest. Dean shoved him against the wall, and Cas’ eyes went wide. Dean kissed him then, letting his tongue probe deeply into Cas’ mouth, and Cas moaned into him. Without another word, Dean lifted Cas off his feet and pinned him up against the wall, pleased at his own strength. Cas blinked, and then wrapped his legs obligingly around Dean’s waist. Dean swallowed, and then lined himself up with the angel’s open hole, Cas tilting his hips against him.

He pushed in, and it was glorious. Cas was so wet, and hot, and tight, and Dean moaned loudly as he bottomed out, nearly scalding water pounding between them. Cas panted heavily, and they were utterly lost in the feeling. But Dean needed more, and so he grabbed a hold of Cas, and lifted him up as he thrust back into him. Cas groaned and rocked down so Dean’s cock disappeared inside him, unable to withhold his cry of, “Dean…”

_And when I touch you_

_I feel the same way too_

_I feel the mountains rise_

_I feel them touch the skies_

“You’re so fucking perfect, Cas,” Dean groaned against the angel’s neck, sucking red marks eagerly into his pale skin. “Beautiful,” he muttered, snapping his hips up into Cas, sighing at the angel’s velvety heat around his cock. Cas’ arms held Dean firmly, and Dean couldn’t help feeling that he was completely lost in Cas, surrounded by his hard muscles and arms and that perfect space inside him where it felt like they were one.

“Love you,” Cas breathed, and it took Dean a moment to realize this was the first time Cas had said anything during sex other than his name. He fucked into Cas harder, as if to compensate for the words that wouldn’t cross his lips. In his mind, it was almost the same. He was showing Cas with his hands, with his whole body, what he couldn’t say.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas moaned, long and low as Dean grasped his cock, which stood between their stomachs. He started jacking it mercilessly, and Cas watched as Dean’s fist glided over every inch of his penis.

_Your love holds all the keys_

_Why can't I be free?_

_From thoughts of bitter rage_

_White lions in a cage_

“You’re so fucking good,” Dean said in-between kisses, and Cas knew he didn’t only mean it as dirty talk. “Breath-taking,” he murmured before Cas leaned in needily, claiming his lips with tongue and teeth. Steam rose around them, clinging to their skin and mingling with their sweat. Cas rode him faster, and Dean met him with harder thrusts. Cas’ fingers dug into his lovers back, and Dean was so close to losing it, but he was determined to fuck Cas through his orgasm, just to see that awestruck expression in his eyes.

Cas moaned with utter abandon, and they fucked as hard and fast as they could. It would’ve hurt if Cas wasn’t so wet and ready for release, and finally he came hard, the cold tiles against his back, Dean’s cock utterly filling him and sliding inside him, Dean’s hand giving him what he wanted, and hot water sliding over their bodies. It was beautiful, and he couldn’t hold back anything, not the embers of glowing light in his eyes, not the cries of “I love you.” Dean held him, come spurting between their chests in thick ropes, and watched his lover cry out for him.

_I, I won't see you any more_

_I, I won't see you any_

_I will not see you any_

_More, more, more_

Dean squeezed his eyes shut when he felt one of Cas’ hands come away from his waist to stroke the side of his face. He couldn’t take it. After the hard thrusts and loud moans, that tenderness was too much to bear. He orgasmed inside Cas, bliss spreading across his being like a wildfire, every thrust marked with profanity and beauty falling out of his lips together.

They collapsed to the floor together, Dean unable to hold Cas any longer. Cas fell on top of his chest, and wearily pushed away for a moment to slide off Dean’s dick. Dean wondered if he’d said _I love you_ in that moment of passion – everything had blurred into Cas, and he had no idea what he’d said. He found the idea oddly comforting, like the silence as Cas lay on top of him, no doubt listening to his heart beat as the water poured over them.

_When I touch you_

_When I touch you_


	22. Thunder Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thunder Road, by Bruce Springsteen  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdhkaPZtQF4  
> Thank you, Alex456w, for the recommendation :)

_The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways_

_Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays_

_Roy Orbison singing for the lonely_

_Hey that's me and I want you only_

_Don't turn me home again_

_I just can't face myself alone again_

It’d snowed for days straight, and finally the rain had come. Cas stood, nose pressed to the window, watching the rain pour down. Black clouds were on the horizon, and Dean could see distant flashes of lightning. The storm would be here tomorrow. Dean strode up to his lover and circled his arms around his middle, kissed his shoulder and then let his head rest there. He missed Sam, and worried about him too. But a small part of him sure was happy they were alone. Cas melted into Dean’s touch, and they stayed that way for a time in silence.

_Don't run back inside, darling you know just what I'm here for_

_So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore_

_Show a little faith, there's magic in the night_

_Y_ _ou ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright_

_Oh and that's alright with me_

Dean couldn’t help it. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Cas being here and them being all right and together. It was a fucking miracle. Consequently, he marveled at Cas and couldn’t resist touching him, drawing him close just to gaze wide-eyed, realizing that Cas was still here. Cas understood. For a chronic womanizer, Dean had meant it when he said he wanted Cas for the rest of his life. They were a miracle that would never wear out, just like the electricity that tingled his fingertips as he ran them along Cas’ skin would never stop.

Of course, everybody thought that. He knew that, too. But he and Cas were… well, it was Cas. Endless mystery of celestial power and strength and blue eyes fuck all wrapped up in a dorky trench coat. He tightened his grip, and Cas sighed contentedly. Dean knew he was sad to see the snow go. They’d been out in it a lot lately, and Cas wasn’t half bad at snowball fights, even if he did cheat. Dean’s throat closed up just thinking of yesterday.

_You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain_

_Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain_

_Waste your summer praying in vain for a saviour to rise from these streets_

_Well now I'm no hero, that's understood_

_All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty ho_ _od_

_With a chance to make it good somehow_

Dean closed his eyes. This song was as close as he could get to a compromise between he and Cas’ favorite music. He, of course, favored hard rock with some 80’s interspersed, while Cas seemed to like those emotional acoustic songs. There was something gentle, something uniquely human in the music Cas loved. He swayed gently. He let his lips rest over the delicate vein running through Cas’ neck, so he could feel his heartbeat. Cas rocked side to side with him to the music.

“Do you know how to dance?” Dean asked suddenly. It’d been a long time. Since he was sixteen, actually. That girl at the boy’s home – his first kiss – had shown him how to dance, awkwardly shepherding him around the room until they got it right. He hadn’t danced much since then. It didn’t fit with his leather jacket vibe, nor did he have occasion very often. Maybe today.

“Maybe,” Cas muttered.

“Maybe?” Dean frowned. “What does that mean? Either you do, or you don’t.”

Cas sighed. “I’m aware of the basic mechanics, Dean.”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dean smirked. “Come on. I’ll teach you.”

_Hey what else can we do now_

_E_ _xcept roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair_

_Well the night's bustin' open, these two lanes will take us anywhere_

_We got one last chance to make it real_

_To trade in these wings on some wheels_

_Climb in back, heaven's waiting down on the tracks_

Cas reluctantly spun around in Dean’s arms, and clasped his hands at the back of Dean’s neck. Dean blinked, surprised at how naturally the position came. He said, “All right. I know how to waltz, but this isn’t really a waltz, so let’s just start off slow and see what happens.” Dean grinned.

They rocked from side to side, Cas studying him with an earnest expression. Dean almost laughed, he looked so serious, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. The angel wore a dark purple shirt Dean had called girly when he first got it, but which looked damn good. Dean was almost cold, wearing his worn AC/DC t-shirt in the wide open room. He made a mental note to introduce Cas to AC/DC, and couldn’t believe he’d let it go so long. Cas’ hair was longer and a little shaggy. Maybe he was letting it grow. What a funny thought.

Dean stepped to one side, and Cas followed after a moment, frowning. Dean said softly, “Don’t overthink it. Just move.” He was, of course, talking out of his ass. He didn’t really know a damn thing about dancing. But Cas seemed to like the advice, and they moved more smoothly after that.

“Spin round,” he whispered in Cas’ ear. Cas stopped stock still, confused, and Dean laughed. Then he put one hand at the angel’s shoulder, and held the other in his own while he guided Cas in a spiral. Cas blinked, and nodded. They moved across the room slowly, before Dean said it again. Cas spun a little too fast, and as Dean moved to catch him, they ended up tangled in what resembled an old movie kiss scene. Cas was on the verge of falling backwards, but Dean had him in his arms. Dean smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Cas arched up against him, and they kissed until Dean’s arms trembled from holding them together. He pulled Cas up again, and found the angel blinking in surprise.

_Oh oh come take my hand_

_Riding out tonight to case the promised land_

_Oh oh oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road_

_Lying out there like a killer in the sun_

_Hey I know it's late, we can make it if we run_

_Oh oh oh oh Thunder Road, sit tight, take hold, Thunder Road_

“That’s an odd way to kiss,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “It felt like falling,” he added, caught up in his own thoughts.

Dean sighed happily into Cas’ black hair. “Yeah.” He muttered, before stepping back from Cas and placing Cas’ hands back where they had been. Cas rolled his eyes, and they moved together around the room again. It was better this time. The tension had gone out of Cas’ muscles, and they moved almost in sync. Dean had to admit he adored this, even when Cas accidentally stepped on his feet. He was pretty rusty, too.

Eventually, they stopped their steady circle and stilled, swaying together in a large square of light cast by the window. Cas closed his eyes, and Dean took the opportunity to steal a swift kiss. The corners of Cas’ mouth twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes. Dean took a hand off of Cas’ waist to cup the angel’s face. Cas let out a breath of contentment. Dean said quietly, “We should do this again.”

_Well I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk_

_And my car's out back if you're ready to take that long walk_

_From your front porch to my front seat_

_The door's open but the ride it ain't free_

_And I know you're lonely for words that I ain't spoken_

_Tonight we'll be free, all the promises will be broken_

Cas smiled, and let his fingers trace down the back of Dean’s neck, under his shirt. “Of course,” he murmured, before his lips were covered with a finger and then Dean’s lips. Dean swallowed, caught up staring at his miracle. Cas. The way the light played over his closed eyelashed, sharp cheekbones and soft lips. Cas, blissfully unaware, tugged at Dean’s hand, trying to lead him back to their room.

“No,” Dean breathed.

Cas’ brow puckered, and he opened his eyes.

“I want you right here,” Dean whispered, his breath hot on Cas’ ear. “In the light. We’ll watch the rain fall and the storm will come in. I want you, Cas. Right here.”

_There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away_

_They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets_

_They scream your name at night in the street_

_Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet_

Cas replied by lifting the hem of Dean’s black t-shirt over his head. Dean chuckled. Clothes were discarded lazily. They weren’t in a hurry. Even when their bare skin touched, when Cas started stroking Dean’s hardening cock, it was slowly. Dean wanted this moment to last forever. Cas knelt before him, and Dean took his time working him open with his tongue and teasing fingers. He was more aware of Cas’ sighs and moans than he was his own breaths, which were by now ragged with want. The rain fell hard, echoing on the roof. They made love slowly, rocking against each other until they couldn’t stand it anymore. Until they let go, and let sweat and ecstasy and steadily thumping hearts take them over. Dean didn’t pull out, they only fell to the floor and lay there and were still together once more. Their bodies tangled together, and the rain fell.

_And in the lonely cool before dawn_

_Y_ _ou hear their engines roaring on_

_But when you get to the porch they're gone on the wind,_ _so Mary climb in_

_It's a town full of losers, I'm pulling out of here to win_

 


	23. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing Else Matters, by Metallica  
> www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tj75Arhq5ho

 

It had been a few weeks ago when it happened. When he finally said it.

_So close, no matter how far_

_Couldn't be much more from the heart_

_Forever trusting who we are_

_And nothing else matters_

Dean watched Cas fumbling through a box of Christmas ornaments, a curious yet happy expression playing across his features. It was two weeks to Christmas now, and Sam wasn’t home. Dean refused to worry. He had to let his little brother take care of himself for once, and trust him.

_Never opened myself this way_

_Life is ours, we live it our way_

_All these words I don't just say_

_And nothing else matters  
_

They’d been on a hunt. It’d looked like a straight up salt and burn job, and they’d both wanted to go. It didn’t seem quite right that hunters would just sit around the house, fucking all the time, as much as Dean would’ve liked that. Of course, they hadn’t accounted for a powerful coven of witches cursing them so all the ghosts in the town would try to kill them. Man, he hated witches. Cas had destroyed their power source and Dean had ganked the bitches, but there was every chance it’d been too late.

_Trust I seek and I find in you_

_Every day for us something new_

_Open mind for a different view_

_And nothing else matters_

Cas picked up a Christmas bauble and lifted it over his head, peering through it curiously. Dean crossed his arms, trying to stop his heart from exploding with how much he fucking loved that idiot. The whole room smelled like pine, because they’d stopped off at the Christmas Tree farm and bought the biggest tree there. Dean didn’t think they could get to the top of it. The guy working there had given them the most impressive eyebrow-raise Dean had ever seen, before breaking into a grin when Cas had muttered something about how the trees were ‘green like his eyes’ or some other awfully sappy sentiment.

_Never cared for what they do_

_Never cared for what they know_

_B_ _ut I know_

Their backs had been pressed against the side of the Impala, hunkering down and waiting for the inevitable blast wave of angry spirits. Cas had looked around at the world, closed his eyes and opened them on Dean, shining and blue and looking like they had the whole universe in them. The words had risen up unbidden, breaking through adrenaline and years of silence. The air was cold, and the words felt so hot on his lips he thought they must’ve burned his throat. His heart had beat so hard it hurt. “I love you.” Just like that.

_So close, no matter how far_

_Couldn't be much more from the heart_

_Forever trusting who we are_

_And nothing else matters  
_

Cas picked up his guitar, and sat there, looking small next to the giant tree. He wasn’t good yet, but he was better. Dean loved watching how he pulled the guitar smoothly onto his lap and fit around it, maybe because that was how they were together, too, fitting together. It was good to see Cas at ease with something, even if it was a beatup guitar and a broken hunter. He started to play, and Dean’s mouth fell open into a soft ‘O’ shape. Cas was playing Dean’s song. He’d muttered it into Cas’ one neck, when their after sex sweat was still cooling, that if how Cas felt was Annie’s song, how he felt was Nothing Else Matters. Cas hated Metallica, but Dean knew he didn’t hate that song. Couldn’t. Cas sang, low and twisting and sweet.

_Never cared for what they do_

_Never cared for what they know_

_But I know_

Dean had grinned, watching his breath linger in the air between them, relishing Cas’ eyes widening. Finally. He’d thought he’d feel shaky inside, vulnerable and needy and about to fall apart if he ever spoke these words. It was a miracle, really, that he wasn’t like that with Cas. He’d felt stronger than ever when he told Cas he loved him, like there was no mountain he couldn’t climb. Cas hadn’t grinned back; he’d just looked at Dean, eyes too blue and like he’d finally found The Truth. Their Truth.

_I never opened myself this way L_

_ife is ours, we live it our way_

_All these words I don't just say_

_Nothing else matters_

The guitar work was rudimentary, scrambled, Cas wincing every time he changed chords and pressed his blistered fingers down into new strings. Dean still couldn’t believe this life, with the giant Christmas tree and the safe four walls around them, was his. But he could believe Cas was his now, and after all, that was what really mattered.

_Trust I seek and I find in you_

_Every day for us, something new_

_Open mind for a different view_

_And nothing else matters  
_

Cas had finally said, “I know,” his mouth twisting up in a half smile. Dean could have hit him, or kissed him, but he just looked steady on at Cas with the full knowledge those were the last words he might ever hear. As it turned out, they weren’t. The ghosts were gone. They were safe, still crouching against the Impala, eyes fixed on one another. When Dean realized his heart wasn’t going to calm, he knelt down at cupped Cas’ face, and then he did kiss him. Their tongues slid across one another, slick and hot and perfect with teeth grazing over lips and Dean twisting their fingers together and squeezing too hard because he’d finally said it.

_Never cared for what they say_

_Never cared for games they play_

_Never cared for what they do_

_Never cared for what they know_

_And I know, yeah!_

Dean gave Cas a private smile, and Cas fumbled, forgetting the words, before his eyes flashed and he started singing again. Dean had a hunch he wouldn’t be able to stop kissing Cas once he put the guitar down. He wanted to say it again and again, whispering it into Cas' ear, shouting it, moaning it, choking it out through laughter, and just when Cas was distracted, saying it again.

_So close, no matter how far_

_Couldn't be much more from the heart_

_Forever trusting who we are_

_No, nothing else matters_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you have a chapter based on the only Metallica song I can stand. Which was, incidentally, my first boyfriend's (ex now, obviously) favorite song. I have seriously mixed feelings about it as a consequence, but listened to it again recently and felt like it had a seriously Dean vibe. So, you have the awkward weirdo who broke up with me in the cafeteria to thank for this one! XD


	24. Smile On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smile on Me, by The Yardbirds  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yaj2aF1X0M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be slow, once very two weeks or so, because I'm studying for exams.

It was Christmas Eve, and Dean was introducing Cas to The Yardbirds. They'd argued about the music they should put on while decorating the giant tree; Cas had wanted Elvis (Dean, it's appropriate) and Dean had wanted Ac/Dc (Come on, man, you've never heard them. Hell's Bells is a Christmas song, really.). Dean had a mental list of bands he wanted to introduce Cas to, Ac/Dc being one of them, Kansas, the Steve Miller Band, Jefferson Airplane, cheesy 80's stuff, every Led Zeppelin song ever... The list was long. But at Cas' pouting frown and insistance that there was some major problem with AC/DC's aura, Dean had relented. He'd randomly picked this cassette out of the boxes they were starting to accumulate, and decided they were as good a 60's rock group as any. Plus they kind of helped to form Led Zeppelin, which gave them major bonus points in his book.

_Smile on me baby_

_Make me feel good when you're near_

They'd broken out the brandy about half way through decorating. And then the whiskey. And the wine, which for some reason, Sam had stockpiled. It was crappy, cheap wine, but Dean couldn't tell the difference and all Cas could taste was molecules. Basically, if there was alcohol in the bunker, they'd drank most of it. This was largely due to Cas having incredible alcohol tolerance and Dean stubbornly insisting one just had to get drunk on Christmas Eve. They'd decorated the giant tree; after Dean almost fell off a giant ladder trying to get to the top, Cas teleported the pentagram ornament to the top. If he thought it was a waste of his angelic powers, he didn't say so. Dean felt like, in another universe, Cas could get really _really_ into holidays. Ugly sweaters and the works. Dean shook his head; he liked Cas in the worn black t-shirt he was wearing now, how it moulded so perfectly to his form and clung around his shoulders.

_Prove it to me baby_

_That our love is in the clear_

The ornament on the top of a tree wasn't really an ornament per say, it was more of a red spray painted wooden pentagram which Dean had found in a box labelled 'Demon Warding' in a box downstairs. There was so much they still hadn't discovered in the bunker, and Dean wanted to explore it all. The red spray paint had been added on to make it "festive," although probably to anyone other than a Winchester, it would've looked psychotic. They'd compiled various boxes of old, partially broken ornaments at the local thrift store. Some of them were quite disturbing, actually, like dusty china mice with pitchforks and threatening expressions. Dean wasn't sure what demented old lady had wanted those hung on her tree, but they put them up there anyway, if only to fill space. The rest of the space was filled with bottle caps, which Dean had learned to hang as Christmas ornaments through many years with John Winchester.

_Walk with me baby_

_Make me hold my head up high_

"I wish there were lights," Dean muttered, coming to stand behind Cas, circling his arms possessively around the angel.

Cas melted against him. Dean loved the simple effect his touch had on the angel. "Mm. Aren't they readily available at... department stores?" Cas asked, like a department store could just as well be some distant jungle.

"Yeah. I don't know why I didn't go out and get them." Dean frowned.

"Maybe you got used to a certain kind of celebration during your years on the road." Dean blinked at the thought that his 'years on the road' were over.

"What, beer caps and gas station presents?" Dean scoffed.

"Yes." Cas said matter-of-factly, and Dean realized that he'd never celebrated Christmas before. The Winchester version probably seemed perfectly normal to him.

_Walk with me baby_

_Make me feel the greatest guy_

"Don't you think Winchester Christmas is a little... dingy?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of Cas' neck. Internally, though, he was berating himself. He was meant to teach Cas about human shit, and Christmas was meant to have lights.

"No, Dean. I like it." Cas said firmly. "Maybe it's odd. It's scraped together, out of anything that would work, but that doesn't make it inferior. I think it makes it better."

Dean frowned. He hadn't really thought of it that way.

"Although lights do sound nice," Cas said wistfully, and he waved his hand. Suddenly, every other branch or so lit up like it itself was a string of Christmas lights. Dean's eyes went wide, and the room got bright.

_I'm gonna love you baby_

_Love you till you cry_

"Whoa," he breathed quietly.

"Better?" Cas asked cockily.

"I think you're right. I love Winchester Christmas." He spun Cas around and kissed him, barely questioning the stiffening of Cas' muscles as he was included in The Winchesters. In fact, Dean barely thought about it at all, not until later.

_Stay with me baby_

_Make me always feel so fine_

 

They were lying underneath the giant tree, looking up through all the partially glowing branches and inhaling the aroma of pine. Cas' trench coat was spread out underneath them, and it was surprisingly soft. Dean had somehow found himself telling the stories contained in Love Actually. Cas had obviously never seen it, and Dean vaguelly remembered it from one depressing Christmas alone on a hunt, watching cable TV in his motel. Reluctantly, he admitted that it was a classic. A terrible, crappy classic which he hadn't enjoyed. Or cried at. At all. "So yeah, there's these two porn star stand-ins, but while they're filming - completely naked and everything - they start having these weirdly sweet conversations..." he trailed off. "But the one that gets you is these two kids, and there's this epic chase scene at the airport where he's just trying to catch up to her-"

_Stay with me baby_

_Make me always feel so fine_

Cas' head rested on Dean's chest. Dean couldn't help thinking, as Cas stroked the bare skin the scoop of his shirt neck exposed, that while Cas was listening, he was a great deal more interested in listening to Dean's heart beat and admiring how well his head fit in the hollow of the hunter's chest. Dean wasn't wrong. He pressed a kiss into the angel's hair.

"He's not gonna be home, is he?" Dean said sadly. "He'd better be OK. If he's not OK, I'mma gonna kill him." He slurred, not very coherent after all the brandy.

"He's fine, Dean. And he'll be home." Cas promised somewhat more fervently than Dean thought he had any right to. "He will be."

"Hmm," Dean said into Cas' hair. "Love you."

"Don't you dare fall asleep." Cas growled into his chest.

"You're warm," was Dean's only response. Cas rolled his eyes. "Solid," Dean said upon consideration. "Surprisingly muscular," he added, tracing the lines of Cas' biceps under the t-shirt hem.

Cas sighed. "You can't fall asleep, Dean. It's not even ten o'clock, it's Christmas Eve and I hung mistle toe above our heads."

Dean blinked his eyes open. Sure enough, above their heads was a sprig of mistletoe he was positive hadn't been there before. "Sneak," he muttered before claiming Cas' lips.

_So I can tell all the world_

_You always gonna be mine_

When they broke apart, he noticed Cas had a light dancing in his eyes. Dean's eyebrows drew together. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Cas definitely seemed less inhibited than usual. "Cas?" he asked, noticing the angel's hand snaking its way up his thigh.

Cas pulling him up to a sitting position, straddling the hunter's legs. The pine tree branches pushed into their hair as Cas kissed him, quick and not deeply enough. "Dean," Cas whispered in his ear. "Seeing as this is likely to be our last night alone together-" Dean didn't ask why Cas was so sure Sam would be back in time. "I want to touch you." Cas still hadn't gotten the hang of dirty talk, and Dean made a mental note to fix that sometime. "Want you to make love to me, Dean." The words might be awkward and old fashioned, but damn if they weren't having the desired effect. Dean felt himself growing hard under the angel's thighs. "Want to scream for you." Dean's jaw dropped. Maybe he'd been wrong about the whole dirty talk thing.

"Yes, Cas," Dean muttered against the angel's jaw. He was uncomfortably rock hard now, and grinded up, making Cas chuckle.

"Oh, Dean," The angel murmured, and started in on the buttons of Dean's shirt, sometimes missing them altogether in inebriated haste.

_Smile on me baby_

_Make me feel like summer's here_

In no time, they were naked and grinding together. "Dean, Dean, Dean," Cas chanted as Dean kissed his throat with long, langorous strokes of his tongue. They alternated moving too quickly and too slow, as if neither could make up their mind about what they wanted. Breath grew short, and Dean flipped Cas onto his stomach. He cursed for a moment before Cas snapped his fingers and a bottle of lube appeared in his hands. Mentally counting the blessings of fucking an angel, he quickly drizzled some onto his fingers, and circled Cas' pink hole. Cas was impatient for him, and bucked backwards onto Dean's fingers. He hissed in pain, and Dean sighed, working him slowly. Cas didn't wait, though, and begged for Dean. Dean's resistance was wearing thin. Seeing Cas, such a powerful being, sweating and needing him, it did things to him. His cock throbbed. Dean slid his fingers in and out, happening to hit Cas' prostate. The angel cried out, and Dean couldn't wait any longer.

He pulled his fingers out, and he heard Cas trying to quiet his whimper of loss. The angel knew what Dean was about to do to him. Dean gripped his cock at the base and lined himself up, hunkering over so the branches of the tree didn't hit him in the face. He slid in too fast, and Cas groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but Dean couldn't stop. Cas felt too good. They were crammed together with forced intimacy, kneeling on Cas' trench coat and low to the ground. Branches and needles pressed against Dean's back as he thrust in and out, loving Cas' cries of pleasure. He took the time to make sure he was hitting Cas' sweet spot with every thrust; neither of them were going to last long.

_Smile on me baby_

_Make me feel good when you're near_

Alcohol pumped through his system, making everything buzz deliciously. Cas smelled like whiskey and rain, and it was only then that Dean realized he didn't normally smell like whiskey, but he always smelled like rain. Funny. Dean grasped Cas' cock, and jacked him hard and fast. Cas let out a strangled moan, and he could feel how close the angel was. How close they both were. The angel was so tight and wet, and Dean could hardly stand it. Cas' muscles started to clench, and Dean whispered in his ear, "Wait for me, angel." The nickname came naturally now.

Cas cried out, trying to deny himself the pleasure Dean was on the verge of giving him. He grit his teeth, and Dean bit gently at his neck. "Dean," Cas groaned.

"Yes," Dean whispered. So close now. So fucking close. Cas keened against him, skin slapping against skin, sinking into Cas' hot center. "Say it again," he bid quietly.

"Dean," Castiel panted. "Dean." Again and again, until Dean couldn't hold back any more.

_Prove it to me baby_

_Our love is in the clear_

"Fuck, Cas," he said in a broken voice as he thrust into Cas erratically, coming inside him, and Cas cried out at the spill of wet heat inside him, and they were coming together, united in waves of pleasure that made them both scream. Dean thought to himself, as they collapsed back to their prior positions and he stared up at the mistletoe, that this had been the best Christmas Eve of his life. He tightened his grip on Cas.

_Smile on me baby_

_Make me feel like summer's here_


	25. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at the Bunker!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Can't Always Get What You Want, by The Rolling Stones  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S94ohyErSw  
> My favorite Stones song.  
> This chapter was edited - Dean originally gave Cas a pendant with the symbol for protection on it, but I liked the idea of Cas having a lucky penny (cause it's more human, in a way) better, so I changed it.

Dean woke up on Christmas morning alone, fully clothed on the sofa. He frowned, staring down at the pillow he was hugging to his chest. The small of his back almost ached without the familiar weight of Cas’ arm, where it had draped itself last night. Dean groaned. “Cas?” He asked. There was no reply. Upon further inspection, an ugly orange blanket had been placed over him and clumsily tucked in. A Rolling Stones cassette was playing, which he definitely didn’t remember putting it in. He tapped his fingers along to the rhythm, waiting for everything to start tot make sense.

When it didn’t, Dean sighed, rubbed his hair, and sat up. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood, pacing sleepily across the room. Cas hadn’t left the bunker in the whole seven months he’d been here. Why would he up and leave now? Dean bit his lip. Maybe he was on the roof, or off in another room doing weird angel stuff. But the fact was, in all the times they’d slept together, Cas had never once left Dean’s side until he woke up. Even though Cas didn’t sleep.

 _I saw her today at the reception  
_ _A glass of wine in her hand  
_ _I knew she was going to meet her connection  
_ _At her feet was a footloose man_

He gave the Christmas tree a once over, in all its ramshackle glory. He hadn’t expected Sam to be home, not really, but there was still a cold spot in the bottom of his stomach. Damnit, where was Cas?

As if to answer him, the swoosh of wings filled the bunker. An arm curled around his stomach, and after stiffening, Dean allowed himself to be drawn backwards into Cas’ embrace. Cas’ hand slotted perfectly against the curve in his waist, the place he could almost feel its absence before. He shivered. Cas kissed his neck softly.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” the angel said, the words sounding thick and clumsy on his tongue.

_You can’t always get what you want  
You can’t always get what you want_

Dean smirked, and spun around. “Merry Christmas, Cas.” He trailed a finger down Cas’ cheek. It was amazing how second nature these touches had become, these touches that before their time at the bunker had been largely forbidden. He was about to lean in and press a quick kiss to Cas’ lips when he noticed a familiar, over-large frame in the doorway, complete with floppy brown hair. “Sam!” Dean let out a sharp breath, too shocked at his brother’s appearance to worry about the fact Sam had just seen him fucking _stroking_ Cas’ face. He didn’t even have time to think over whether he should be worrying about it before Sam grinned suspiciously widely, dropped his duffle on the floor and announced, “It’s about time.”

Without a word of explanation, he walked across the room, clapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder, and promptly collapsed on the sofa. He gave a cursory grimace to the orange blanket.

Dean stared at him, flabbergasted. Blinking, he untangled himself from Cas’ embrace with a quick squeeze to the shorter man’s hand. He sat down next to Sam, fussing with the fraying end of the blanket. Sam looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. Dean managed, “How the hell did you get here?” According to the schedule, Sam shouldn’t have been home until January at the earliest, most likely February.

Sam smiled. “You really gotta thank Cas for that one.” Cas materialized on the arm of the sofa, nearly making Sam jump out of his skin. Dean smirked. “Anyway,” Sam coughed, “He just showed up on the ship and said you’d mope all day if I didn’t come home.”

Dean glared. “Mope?” He was pretty sure he and Cas would have had other things to do. Like endless, sweet, sticky Christmas marathon sex. He sighed internally. There were those plans out the window. He was glad to see his irritating fucker of a brother though, he reminded himself. “So, the ship wasn’t angel warded, huh?”

“Hm?” Sam asked, and he remembered, he quickly said, “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Right. No. Just the island.”

Dean nodded, and flashed a quick smile at Cas, where he sat perched oddly gracefully on the couch arm. Cas smiled, and Dean grinned. “I think we need a six pack from the fridge.” This was how Christmas oughta be. His brother on one side, gigantic slightly fugly Christmas tree, Cas on his left.                                                                                                                               

 _You can’t always get what you want_  
_But if you try sometimes_  
 _You might find_  
 _You get what you need_

When Dean had taken his first swallow of ice cold beer, and Sam was gazing up at the gently glowing Christmas tree branches, Cas interjected, “I heard an exchange of gifts was customary.” He stumbled, as though he was afraid he might be wrong. “I was, erm, unfamiliar with the concept, so I hope…”

Sam cut across him, and Dean scowled at his younger brother. _Don’t interrupt him when he’s having a tough time saying something,_ he wanted to say. “What, Dean didn’t teach you about Christmas? What happened to ‘human stuff’? Or was that just code for sex?”

Dean choked on his beer, spluttering in an attempt to breathe. “Meant to be a surprise,” he mumbled.

Cas’ eyes lit up at the mention of a surprise. After thousands of millennia, it was difficult to surprise a guy, but Dean would always find a way.

_And I went down to the demonstration_   
_To get my fair share of abuse_   
_Singing, “We’re gonna vent our frustration_   
_If we don’t, we’re gonna blow a fifty amp fuse.”_

Dean started, because, well, that seemed logical. He’d jogged up and down the hallway to his room, fumbling for the present he hadn’t thought he’d give Sam for ages to come, and the one he’d secreted away for Cas. Now he tossed Sam the mediocrely wrapped package, and watched impatiently as Sam opened it much too neatly, tearing in straight lines and peeling the tape away. A box fell out of the wrapping paper, and Sam’s face colored. “You’re kidding me, right Dean?”

Dean smirked.

“Condoms? Really.” Sam glared at him.

“Don’t want you bringing any rugrats home any time soon.” He winked. “No, that’s not it,” he relented. “Here.” He handed Sam a smaller box which he’d held behind his back. “Look, I don’t know if it’s really appropriate or not, but even if it’s not, seems like you ought to be the one to have it.” Sam peered inside, and his jaw dropped.

“Dean…” Sam’s gaze flickered between the hunter and Cas for an imperceptible second before he suggested awkwardly, “Are you sure you’re not gonna put this to use yourself?”

Cas craned his neck to see inside the box, and Sam continued. “Dean, this is Mom’s wedding ring, isn’t it? I didn’t even know you had this.” Cas frowned. Dean really hoped Sam wasn’t going to enlighten him on how exactly they might be putting a wedding ring to use. Marriage was probably just a weird human custom to him, anyway, or else something absurdly sacred.

“Yeah. Dad kept it in a separate compartment of the Impala, away from all the weapons. I just left it there, until now.” Dean thought maybe John had wanted to keep just a tiny part of Mary separate from the world of monsters. “He must’ve gone back after the fire, to, uh…”

Sam swallowed. “Dean, I can’t take this.”

“Please.” Dean said. “Look, I know you and Jess… Anyway. Even if you and Eileen are nowhere near there, you wanted a regular life. Y’know, wife, picket fence, fancy suit, lame car. I think the normal bit’s out the window, as is the picket fence. But… just, take it, OK?” Dean growled at himself inwardly for not being able to put it into words. He wanted Sam to know that someday, he would love some girl as much as he’d loved Jess, and likewise, and that when that happened, Sam oughta have Mom’s wedding ring. Why was that so hard to say? He looked up, and noticed Cas staring at him intently, head cocked to one side.

Sam seemed to understand. He closed his fingers on the delicate silver ring, which looked small on his palm, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No chick flick moments.”

_Sing it to me, you can’t always get what you want  
You can’t always get what you want_

He turned to Cas. “So, what do you get the angel who has everything, huh?” He laughed, but wasn’t joined by the other two. Dean paused, once again reminded that Sam and he had never discussed him and Cas.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “It’s OK. I get it. You’re super gay for each other and in love.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Spit it out.”

“I-” Dean rounded on his brother, smacking him on the shoulder hard. Sam smirked. That kid was too damn sassy for his own good. “Here,” he said eventually, and handed Cas a red cardboard box.

Cas opened it, and a small smile fell across his face. It was a smile of understanding just out of grasp.

“They’re cassettes,” Dean said, and mentally hit himself in the forehead. Of course Cas knew what cassettes were. “One of them’s blank, so you can put whatever songs you want on it. I’ll show you how. The other one has a mix on it. I thought, uh…” He swallowed. Cas considered the two cassettes curiously, nestled together in the bottom of the box as they were. There was a third item, in the corner. Cas picked it up, turning it over in his hands carefully. Dean told himself to get a grip. He was worse than a boy bringing flowers on a first date. Finally, the realization dawned on Cas, and the smile that broke free was like the sun.

 _You can’t always get what you want_  
_But if you try sometimes_  
 _Well you just might find_  
 _You get what you need_

Dean had found it while sorting through some of the Men of Letter’s boxes down in the dungeon, of all places. He’d picked it up, frowning. It was a lucky penny, dated circa 1900, but it had the Enochian sigil for protection on it. A worn leather cord was strung through a small hole at the top, making it into a necklace. He'd pocketed it, telling himself maybe he'd look into it, but all the while he'd had an inkling what purpose he wanted to put the find to.

Cas fumbled to hang it around his neck. Sam was watching with a curious expression, but didn’t intrude. When Cas was done, it hung down lightly, resting at the hollow of Cas' collarbone. Dean’s lips twitched. It looked damn good on him, bringing out the pink flush in his skin.

_Ah, baby, yeah  
Oh, baby_

Eventually Sam cleared his throat, and Cas said, “It’s the Enochian symbol for protection.” That wasn’t all it meant to Dean, and Cas knew that. It meant something along the lines of, I would die for you. I would die for this newfound peace we have, I would give everything to shelter you from the cold while letting you walk in the rain. It meant I need you, so goddamnit, stay alive. Dean had used to think peace was for losers, to be perfectly blunt. Now he thought rather differently. Peace wasn’t just some old lady tending flowers, peace was that infinite stillness, always expanding up into his chest when he was with Cas; not a negation of the past, only the natural continuation. A soldier taking his boots off when he was finally home. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas said softly.

“Cas, I’ve got something for you too, actually,” Sam said brightly. He tried to shoot Dean some meaningful glance, but Dean scrupulously avoided it. He handed Cas an irritatingly well wrapped box, enfolded in lilac tissue paper.

“Dude, could you be any more gay?” Dean asked as Cas contemplated how best to undo the wrapping.

Sam raised one eyebrow, and Dean shut up. Right. He’d probably have to stop saying that now.

“Like this,” Dean eventually said, when he noticed Cas was still staring at the box. He brushed his hands over Cas’, guiding him through ripping the paper at the corner. “Just rip it off, man,” he said, retracting his hands and expecting Cas to follow the example. Instead, Cas gently unfolded the paper, occasionally tearing when it was necessary, but mostly unravelling the whole thing with his fingers like it was a puzzle. Not unlike how he looked at Dean when he was about to take him in his mouth, Dean thought.

 _I went down to the Chelsea drug store_  
_To get your prescription filled_  
 _I was standin’ in line with Mr. Jimmy_  
 _And man, did he look pretty ill_

Inside, there was an old Polaroid camera. Sam shifted on the couch, explaining it to Cas. Cas turned it over in his hands, again and again, and Dean’s breath was stolen clean away. He didn’t know what it was about Cas, whether it was the intense way he studied everything, or the way his hands were moving, or the look in his eyes, or the knowledge that soon that same look would be turned back on Dean, or just that it was _Cas,_ and Cas took his breath away.

Matter-of-factly, Cas picked up the camera, turned to Dean, and pressed the shutter button. Dean hadn’t been paying attention, and had been staring dreamily at Cas. He flushed red. “What the hell, Cas?”

“It’s a camera. It’s for taking pictures,” Cas said.

“Well yeah, but you can’t just-” Cas pulled the photo out, and blew on it like Sam had told him, watching the ink dry with a satisfied expression. Dean shut up. Cas was going to do whatever the hell he wanted with that thing if he liked it so much. Cas looked down at the photo, smiled so it made Dean’s heart ache, and folded it before shoving it in his trench coat pocket.

Cas could barely sit still, running his hands over the buttons and peering through the viewfinder, while Sam handed Dean another immaculately wrapped present. Dean tore it open with no regrets, and grinned when he saw what was inside. “Sammy,” he laughed.

“What is it?” Cas asked, maybe angling to take another photo.

“And you said my jokes weren’t funny.” Dean lifted it up so Cas could see, a gracefully lethal knife, with a dark mahogany handle carrying the word _Adios_ on it. Dean had said he wanted one months, maybe years back in jest.

“It’s silver,” Sam supplied helpfully, “But it’s blessed by a priest, so it’ll burn a demon pretty bad if you’re in a pinch.”

 _We decided that we would have a soda_  
_My favorite flavor, cherry red_  
 _I sung my song to Mr. Jimmy_  
 _And he said one word to me, and that was 'dead'_

Cas’ gifts were wrapped haphazardly at best. Dean noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he handed Dean the small object, and Dean made sure their fingers touched during the exchange. He was nervous about doing Christmas right. If he knew some of the Christmas’ Dean had had, that would be laughable. When Dean had unwrapped it, a small key sat flat in his hand. “What’s it to?” Dean asked slowly.

Sam resisted the urge to say, ‘his heart, obviously,’ but only just.

“You’ll see.” Cas told him.

Sam opened his present, and beamed. “Emily Dickens, awesome.” A little morbid, he thought, but awesome. “We hadn’t even gotten into poetry yet.”

“She wrote about bees,” Cas said simply. Dean had noticed, over the past few weeks, Cas copying poems covertly from a book about that size into a notebook he’d scrounged up somewhere. Although Sam and Cas seemed to have a ‘my books are your books’ philosophy, when something was a gift it was a little different, and he suspected Cas still wanted to be able to read his favorite poems from the book.

Sam nodded. “That she did. Thanks, Cas.”

Cas leaned over and whispered in Dean’s ear, “I didn’t realize when people said they felt ‘warm and fuzzy’ inside, they meant it quite literally. It’s odd, Dean.”

Dean chuckled. “I suppose it is.”

_I said to him, you can’t always get what you want  
No, you can’t always get what you want_

The rest of the day went by in a blur, and Dean was quite unashamed to say it’d been the best Christmas of his life. He’d more or less convinced Cas that You Can’t Always Get What You Need was a Christmas carol. He’d also gotten Jingle Bells stuck in Sam’s head at every opportunity, earning him many a glare. Sam had attempted to show Cas how to bake apple pie, but unsurprisingly, Cas was a terrible baker. He had wanted to skip the baking process and roast it with his angel power, which Sam had insisted was too unpredictable. Dean thought this must be the one day a year that Sam didn’t tell him off for drinking too much. Although, come to think of it, he’d been doing that less now. Now that he had Cas.

They watched some pretentious French movie Sam insisted on, followed by all the crappy Christmas cartoons Dean had decided they needed to buy on video tape, that’s right, video tape. None of this douche-y DVD crap in his bunker. It was cassettes and videos for the Winchesters. And Cas, Dean absentmindedly thought as he realized Cas wasn’t technically a Winchester. He frowned.

Somewhere in the afternoon, Dean built a fire in the frankly oversized fire-place, and they sat in front of it and watched it blaze. Sam and Dean traded anecdotes, with Cas occasionally chipping in what he could. The life of a divine soldier wasn’t particularly festive.

 _You can’t always get what you want_  
_But if you try sometimes_  
 _You just might find_  
 _You get what you need_

Sam and Dean were alone in the kitchen. Dean dried the dishes as soon as Sam washed them – Dean had cooked dinner, and they’d had charred apple pie as dessert. Dean had insisted Cas ate some, and he admitted there was a faint taste left from – he hadn’t finished the sentence, but Dean knew it was because of the spell they had done. It wasn’t much, but he could still taste and smell, just a little beyond molecules.

“So,” Sam said after a good five minutes of silence. It wasn’t heavy silence, exactly, but it felt that way to Dean.

“So.” Dean focused on swiping the blue and white checked towel over the plate. They even had plaid towels.

“You and Cas finally got your act together.” Sam was still looking at the plates in his hand, but he worked slower now.

Dean tried not to drop the plate. Were they really about to have the, ‘Hey Sam, I’m super gay with my best friend, you know the one I told you I wasn’t gay for for so long, the angel, yeah, how long have you known?’ conversation?

Sam wondered if Cas had told Dean what they’d talked about the night he’d left for the Island, when Cas had taken him to the port. He thought probably not, but was still undecided if he should tell him. When Dean was silent, he spoke up. “I’m glad, Dean. I’m happy for you. And Cas, too.”

Dean swallowed. “Right.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Also I’m the one who told him you were head over heels for him, so you can stop pretending like I don’t know.”

Dean’s eyes snapped up. “You, uh, what?”

Sam smirked. “Come on, Dean. It wasn’t so hard to guess. All the times you couldn’t stand losing him. The awkward eye stares. I’ve known you my whole life, figuring you out isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“Oh.” He thought he’d been subtler than all that. “How’d you know, he, ah…”

“What? “liked” you?” Sam asked, doing air quotes. “Jesus Christ,” he said softly. “You’re my brother, but you’re a friggin idiot sometimes. It’s written all over his face.” Dean blinked. “Don’t hurt him,” Sam said, frowning into the drain, as if he didn’t want to say it at all.

Dean’s first response was anger flooding through him and a thick, “I would never.” His second response was also anger, but directed at himself rather than Sam. Sam only had to say that because Dean had a long string of love em’s and leave em’s. Because he probably hurt Cas more times than he cared to count. “Things are different now,” he said through his teeth.

“Good,” Sam nodded. And things were.

 _I saw her today at the reception_  
_In her glass was a bleeding man_  
 _She was practiced at the art of deception_  
 _Well I could tell by her blood stained hands_

“I’m not gay,” Dean blurted out suddenly, as he stared at a mug of coffee in his hands. God, why had he gone and said that? Why did he fucking feel the need to say that.

Sam blinked slowly, like a dog about to fall asleep in confusion. He hadn’t asked about Cas and Dean’s sex life. “Okay?”

“I mean, I… There haven’t been other guys. Just Cas. It’s just Cas.” Dean muttered, tasting the coffee even though it scalded his tongue, just for something to do.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Sam’s eyebrows had made his forehead wrinkle like a Hopi maze.

“Right, right.” Dean said.

“I wouldn’t care if there had been other guys,” Sam said gently. Dean wondered if he thought the words would spark some confession about gay orgies or something, he said it so gingerly. Dean had been telling the truth, though. “It kinda makes sense, don’t you think?” Dean had a horrible feeling Sam was trying to explain Dean’s own feelings to him, and that he was about to do rather a good job. “I mean, you keep saying it, _it’s Cas._ It doesn’t matter what body he’s in, it’s Cas. Is this actually the first time you’ve fallen for somebody based on their personality?” Sam smirked, then realized he was side-tracking. “Besides, doesn’t it make it kind of… more special that way?”

Dean nodded slowly, irritated that Sam had indeed explained what he hadn’t thought needed explaining. “Although I’m not exactly complaining he’s in the body he has. It has advantages,” Dean smirked, watching Sam’s cheeks color up as he turned away and flung the towel onto a chair.

“I don’t want to know man, I don’t want to know.” Dean walked off with a smile of wicked glee, leaving Sam to shake his head in his brother’s wake.

_You can’t always get what you want  
You can’t always get what you want_

“You and Eileen?” Dean asked later. Snow was falling again outside, threatening to surround the bunker and block them in. It was night time, and the whole room smelled like pine, and Cas had his nose pressed to the glass, watching the black night sky swirling with white flakes.

Sam sighed, and ran a hand over his face. “There’s a problem.” Dean waited. “I fell for her,” he said sheepishly. “And I told her so.” Dean prepared to wince, wondering if the wedding ring gift hadn’t made things worse. “I mean, we’re both hunters, so I didn’t expect lollipops and roses. I just thought she oughta know. She got this funny look in her eyes and said she should think about it. That’s not the problem. Do you know what, Dean? Even when she was walking away from me saying she needed ‘time’, I still… loved her.” He frowned at the words, then smiled.

“So your problem is that you’re a giant puppy dog in love and she’s a smart girl who doesn’t want to get involved too fast?” Dean summarized.

“Yeah. I’m seeing her in February.” Sam said nervously. “I don’t know, Dean. She’s always so serious about us, but I know she has her boundaries, and for good reasons. I think she wants to be more, but she thinks maybe we shouldn’t, for my sake even. God, I don’t know. Maybe I should have tried dating men.” One side of his mouth turned up, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dude, he’s an angel.”

Sam appeared to be weighing up that argument, mouth shrug in place. “Although she did say I was the best hunting partner she’d had, and given that she doesn’t have friends, that means something.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, suddenly envisioning a strange future where Cas was his hunting partner and Sam was Eileen’s. He was unsure if he liked it or not. “Hunting partner, huh?” He said, waggling his eyebrows. Sam sighed, shaking his head with a small smile that told Dean he was partially right.

 _Ooh yeah, you can’t always get what you want_  
_But if you try sometimes_  
 _You just might find, you just might find_  
 _You get what you need, ah yeah_

Sam had gone to sleep hours ago. “Come on, Cas, it’s late.” Dean said, kissing Cas’ neck and slipping his arms around the other man’s chest.

“But I like watching the snow fall, Dean.”

“I know. And I like watching you. But I’m tired.” Dean sighed.

“How tired?” Cas asked with a hint of a spark in his voice. “Too tired to let me…” he trailed off, licking his lips.

Dean groaned. “For an angel, you’re pretty damn filthy sometimes.”

Cas frowned and pushed him away. “There’s nothing filthy about what we do, Dean. Nothing.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “I – uh. Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Seemingly satisfied, Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and they appeared in Dean’s room, which was mercifully down the hall from Sam’s room. Another snap of his fingers and their clothes were gone. Dean grunted as he found himself suddenly erect with a throbbing cock, and Cas smirked, kissing the tiredness away with gentle presses of his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean reached for Cas, but Cas shook his head, and said, “Let me. Let me take care of you.”

Cas was more gentle than they had ever been, kissing along Dean’s length so softly it almost made him scream, before sinking down on it completely. Thank God angels had no gag reflex. He came quickly in the dark, hot pull of Cas’ lips, undone by his flicking tongue, but Cas didn’t mind. He came to rest by Dean’s side, and let Dean stroke him lazily until he came, holding onto Dean tightly. Dean fell asleep in his angel’s arms, exhaustion and afterglow gloriously comingling in his body. It was a far cry from what 20 year old Dean Winchester had pictured as his ideal life, he thought before he drifted into sleep, but it was damn better. Even though it wasn’t true, it made him feel like Cas was all he had ever wanted. Ever needed.

“Cas,” he whispered in his sleep, and Cas kissed the whisper away, like he didn’t want the air around them to be able to hear it, only him.

_You can’t always get what you need_

_But if you try sometimes_

_You just might find_

_You get what you need._


	26. Houses of the Holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Houses of the Holy, by Led Zeppelin  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8e6VZTDBvs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this at 6 a.m. while very feverish but it's one of my favorite chapters so far, so enjoy!

Cas clasped Dean’s hand as another firework lit up the sky, showering red and gold sparks all across the firmament.

It was New Year’s Eve. Dean had suggested they get a few of their own fireworks and set them off from the bunker roof, but Sam had reluctantly insisted it might damage the warding or attract unwanted attention. Dean had scoffed. So it came about that they stood on the roof, watching fireworks go up as the clock strike midnight, all across Kansas. Sam was grinning like a kid and Cas was awestruck. The light from the fireworks reflected in his eyes, and Dean wanted nothing more than to reach over, tilt his chin towards Dean and claim those beautiful lips as his own. Which nothing was technically stopping him from doing, except the plans he’d have for after that kiss and the fact his little brother was standing nearby. Sam hadn’t been thrilled when he walked into Dean’s room a few days back only to discover Cas on his knees in the middle of a rather intimate act. Since then, the door had remained firmly locked and Sam had glared at them whenever they kissed with anything more than chaste affection, as if to say, ‘Don’t you two start again.’

The fireworks had died down by 1 a.m., and Sam hit the sack, clapping Dean on the shoulder with a muttered, “Keep it quiet.”

Dean pouted. He never wanted to keep it quiet. Cas’ moans were quite possibly the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard.

When Sam was gone, Dean drew Cas to his chest and kissed him. He tried to start it off slow and sweet, but the undercurrent of his thoughts let hot passion seep into it, and Cas groaned into him. Dean smirked against the shorter man’s lips.

“I have to show you something.” Cas muttered even as Dean was grabbing the lapels of his coat – it was the blue leather jacket Dean had given him months ago.

Dean cocked his head, and asked, “Does it have something to do with a mysterious key you gave me for Christmas?” Dean had been waiting for a week, and Cas had made no mention of it.

Cas ducked his head. “Yes.” He laid a hand to Dean’s shoulder and a wave of weightlessness rolled across Dean’s body before they materialized somewhere else. Dean blinked. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the intense dark around them, and the first thing he noticed was that Led Zeppelin was playing. He raised an eyebrow. “Cas?”

_Let me take you to the movie, can I take you to the show?_

“There’s a radio.” Cas said, like that explained everything.

Dean looked around, and slowly his surroundings started appear. Were they… in a greenhouse? Yeah. That’s exactly where they were. And a giant one at that. Plants grew wild across it, looking like they’d been left there for at least twenty years. Lilies were floating on what had once been a well landscaped pond, pale pink blooms against the dusky static of night. A variety of ivy he’d never seen before clung to most surfaces, and the smell of flowers and earth hung heavy in the air. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere in California, I think.” Cas said. “It moves around. It’s an enchanted temple; if you look for it anywhere, you’ll find it.”

“Temple?” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. Isn’t it beautiful?” Castiel asked with a warm smile. “It’s for those who have lost faith, but wish to find it again. I don’t know who enchanted it, but it must have been quite some time ago. Perhaps a white witch with an angel’s assistance,” he said thoughtfully. “They probably died and the enchantment was left, but with no one to maintain it, the garden grew out of control.” Dean stared around, trying to digest the information.

“You found your faith again?” He stumbled. He felt almost… what was this churning in his stomach? It was something petty and stupid, he knew that. He’d thought he and Cas had made each other better. Wasn’t some weird enchanted temple-greenhouse the angel hadn’t told him about kind of cheating?

Cas thought for a moment. “No. But I found a different one.” He knelt down, knees brushing the dirt as he righted some plant growing waywardly in the dirt. “A faith in small things; like humanity. I think that’s the point of this temple. To restore faith from the roots up, if you’ll have it.”

Dean wasn’t sure which to respond to – Cas calling humanity ‘small’, although he supposed that opinion was justified to someone like Cas, or the fact that the angel had just made his first pun. He did neither.

“I come here to think. If you ever try hard enough, no matter where you are, you can find your way back here.” Cas said, still kneeling.

“We could use it as a rendezvous if we ever got separated,” Dean said, words coming all too slowly. He reprimanded himself. Cas was showing him this beautiful, if albeit odd place, and now they were here together. _Stop being a friggin’ child about it,_ he told himself.

Castiel nodded. “Yes. You have the key?” Dean nodded, and walked to him, pressing the key into Cas’ upturned palm. “The radio plays whatever your idea of divinity is,” Cas added as an afterthought. Dean blinked. He supposed he had nobody but himself to blame for the odd choice. He’d wanted to wait to show Cas this song until he knew Cas was on better terms with being an angel and general references to God than he had been when he’d first come to the bunker.

_Let me be yours ever truly, can I make your garden grow?_

Cas walked to the one solid wall of the greenhouse, which was a rock-face that looked like it had been hewn by hand with old tools. The greenhouse was built away from it. Dean stood so close behind Cas his chest nearly touched Cas’ back when he breathed out. Cas stuck the unassuming key into a tiny, perfectly made keyhole in the rock that Dean had barely seen. A glowing square white line appeared around the key hole, which Cas reached his hand into and drew out a box. He handed the key back to Dean, who stared at it. It looked like it could have unlocked somebody’s garage door, maybe, but an enchanted hidey-hole in the wall of a green-house temple? Not so much. He closed his palm on it tightly, still waiting for his mind to catch up with all the beautiful, strange things Cas was showing him.

Cas sat cross-legged on the floor, and Dean knelt by him. “This is where I’m going to put them,” Cas said, running a hand over the smooth mahogany wood of the box lid. “The letters,” he added in explanation, looking up at Dean.

“Letters?” Dean asked.

“Yes. That’s a human custom, isn’t it? Love letters? I read about it, in the books Sam lent me. I liked the idea.” Cas said simply.

“I… Yeah.” Dean’s voice was inches away from cracking.

“But I’m not sure I know how to write one. Could you help me?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know how, Cas. I never have.” Dean said helplessly. The illogical jealousy he’d felt earlier flooded away from him.

“Oh.” Cas thought for a moment, then put the box carefully to one side and leaned forward, capturing Dean’s face between his hands and kissing him hotly, licking and biting at his bottom lip. Cas’ hands were in his hair, roving across the back of his neck, and then – oh. Dean stared up at the greenhouse roof, flat on his back. Then Cas was on him, straddling him and mouthing at his neck. Dean moaned at the sudden change, and reached up for purchase on Cas, something to hold onto. Cas ignored this, but took Dean’s hands in his and contemplated them for a moment before kissing each of his wrists and putting them down again. Dean frowned, but Cas kissed it away, their tongues sliding over one another. Dean could feel himself getting hard under Cas’ weight across his lap, and Cas rocked against him, earning a quiet cry.

Cas stopped without warning, and the smile slowly faded from Dean’s face. Cas was staring down at him contemplatively, seeming to have forgotten that they were hard and straining for each other in their jeans. Cas said in satisfaction. “I think I know how to start know.”

_From the houses of the holy, we can watch the white doves go_

“I – what?” Dean asked, bewildered as the angel got off of him and picked up the paper and pen he’d held before. “So what, that was for inspiration or something?!”

“Yes,” Cas answered, watching the glide of the pen across the paper, the first black line appearing reticently.

Dean groaned, and sat up. “Kinda left me hard and hanging here, Cas.”

“Mm,” Cas said, not really listening.

“Cas,” Dean whined.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m in the same predicament as you, Dean.” Predicament. _Predicament._ When, when was he going to learn to call it a boner or something normal?

“Cas,” Dean said, dragging the word out, making it ragged. Love letters could wait. He wanted Cas to paint the words into his skin instead. “I need you,” he said quietly, smirking.

The angel finally looked up, hair rumpled and a steely glint in his eyes. “So touch yourself.”

Oh. That was deeply not what he’d been expecting. “Um…” he blinked.

Cas tilted his head to one side. “I’m curious.”

Dean bit his lip. This was unfamiliar territory. Never, in all of his sexual escapades, had anyone wanted to watch him jerk off, which was actually surprising when you consider how many women he’d slept with. This was intimate in a totally peculiar way.

Cas growled low in his throat, still looking at him. “I want to see you.”

Dean’s cock twitched at his words, and with wide eyes, he reached to his belt and undid it. Cas watched him with an expression somewhere between intrigue and hunger. For a moment, Dean thought Cas might mimic his actions, but instead the angel picked up the damn pen again and started writing, his eyes darting back to Dean.

_From the door comes Satan’s daughter, and it only goes to show_

_You know_

Dean tore his jeans and boxers off, letting out a short sigh of relief. When Cas looked up at him, still waiting, he took off his jacket, shirt, and t-shirt. He knelt gently on the warm ground, sitting back on his heels. His dick was throbbing, begging for him to touch it. He wasn’t used to being naked like this, wasn’t used to being watched instead of being touched. Jerking off in front of an angel. How exactly had he gotten here? “Take your shirt off,” he asked thickly.

Cas blinked and obliged, folding his jacket and shirt in a pile. Dean let his gaze roam across the angel’s leanly muscled chest, the fading marks Dean had sucked into his neck, the soft curls of hair peeking up from below his jeans. Dean smirked when he saw how hard the angel was, bulging in his jeans. Slowly, he reached a hand around his penis and began to stroke himself. Cas licked his lips, and Dean restrained himself from moaning.

Cas wrote quickly, his handwriting messy, but he never erred from his task. Dean was surprised and slightly angry Cas had that much self-restraint. He was jerking himself hard, like he liked it. Cas stared at him like he was a muse or some magical creature, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his hand, the quick pants of his breath.

Dean could hold out for a long time, even with the touch of his own rather experienced hand. He’d started off slow, but something about the way Cas was looking at him went way down, made him want that explosive pleasure _now,_ wanted Cas to watch him take it. He moaned, “Cas,” his voice breaking halfway through. Cas met his gaze evenly with lust-blown pupils, and Dean jacked himself faster. Precum leaked from the tip of his dick, and he let his head fall back as he slicked it over himself. When he opened his eyes, Cas was looking at him, a look that would burn straight through lesser men. He’d stopped writing, and while one hand still held the pen, he’d reached into his jeans and was palming himself through his boxers with the other. It struck Dean how silent it was. “Cas…” he whispered hoarsely. “Cas-Castiel.”

Cas bit his lip, hard, and heat was coiling in Dean’s gut, begging to be released. He squeezed himself tighter and let himself go to the push and pull of his hand, the sound of he and Cas’ breathing, and the steady blue eyes on him.

He groaned loudly as the first wave of pleasure hit, shooting cum all over his bare chest. Cas watched like a man helpless, and Dean cried out again and again as he milked himself, until his cock was red and sensitive and it was over. He knelt in the dirt, Cas grabbing up the paper to scrawl something frantically, and slowly came to realize he had cum all over himself. Chest, neck, even some on his cheek.

Cas signed something at the bottom of the paper and set it down gingerly, pausing to let his gaze linger on it for a moment. Then his eyes were all on Dean, and he practically launched himself at the hunter. Dean grabbed onto him tightly, kissing his deliciously bare neck as Cas whispered, “Yes, Dean, please, Dean.”

Dean smiled against his skin, and rather ungracefully took off Cas’ jeans. Cas was putty in his hands, obedient to Dean’s every whim. Dean let out a short noise of pleasure when he saw just how rock hard Cas was, eight inches of him throbbing with precum running down his length. _I did that,_ he thought blankly. “You like watching me, huh?” Dean asked, tone dirty as he ran a hand over Cas’ hipbones and thighs, touching him everywhere but where he needed it.

As usual when Dean tried dirty talk, Cas didn’t respond. Dean wasn’t sure he really understood the concept. Keening, Cas leaned to him and with a tentative smile which made Dean’s heart skip a beat, he licked the cum off Dean’s collarbone. Dean groaned as Cas ran his wet tongue all over Dean’s chest and finally over his cheek, cleaning him of all traces of his release. “Dean-” Cas begged sharply.

“I know, I got you.” Dean said. “Get on your knees.”

_There’s an angel on my shoulder, in my hand a sword of gold_

Cas frowned but didn’t object, probably wondering, and with good reason, how exactly Dean planned to fuck him in his current state. Cas knelt away from him, like he’d wanted, and Dean trailed open-mouthed kisses along his spine. Cas whined and bucked under his touch, wanting more, wanting anything. Smirking, Dean trailed his fingertips across Cas, feather-light everywhere. “Dean!” Cas cried out desperately. Dean wondered briefly if he could make Cas come untouched. Instead, he parted Cas’ ass cheeks with both hands, and licked a stripe against Cas’ puckered hole. Cas moaned, the sound broken by his breath hitching.

“Talk to me, Cas,” Dean said, drawing back thoughtfully. “You’re a fucking poet now, apparently,” he said glancing at the lengthy letter. “Talk to me,” he asked again, his breath hot on Cas’ skin.

“I -” Cas floundered. “I don’t know how.”

Right. Cause dirty talk was the universal mystery. “Talk to me and I’ll finish you,” he said, teasing a circle at Cas’ rim. When Cas was silent, Dean said, “Just tell me what you feel.”

“I want you,” Cas panted, and Dean, thinking it was a pretty decent start, ran his tongue across Cas’ hole again. “I need you.”

“Mm,” Dean moaned into him, watching him rock against the vibrations. “Are you touching yourself, Cas? Want you to touch yourself.”

“Yes, Dean.” Dean hazarded a glance up to Cas, whose lips were parted as his hand glided over his thick cock. Dean could see he wasn’t practiced, but nor was he a total novice. The thought gave him butterflies through his stomach. “Please.”

Dean circled his tongue all around the pink flesh, making it glisten with moisture, before he thrust it inside Cas. Cas moaned loudly, the sound velvety and filled with desire. “Dean…” he said, as if only just remembering he was meant to be talking. “You know you break me apart when you do this.” Dean’s eyes came wide open. “Make me come undone, and Dean – oh, Dean,” Cas breathed as Dean circled his tongue inside him. “I love it,” he gasped quietly. “Love you. Fuck.” He should’ve known Cas talking dirty would be something unexpected, but this – well, fuck.

_Let me wander in your garden, and the seeds of love I’ll sow_

_You know_

Dean added a finger under his tongue, wiggling it all inside of Cas and then crooking it until he cried out. “Stars,” Cas said dazedly. “I can see stars.” He stroked Cas’ prostate mercilessly, watching his whole body shudder. “I never knew humans were made for such indescribable pleasure,” Cas panted, his voice rough on the word ‘pleasure’. Dean added another finger, pumping them in and out of Cas. “The things you do to me. Beautiful, Dean. They feel…” He threw his head back, and then repeated, “Beautiful.”

Dean had three fingers in his ass and his tongue, making sinful little movements deep inside him. He could see the faint shadows Cas’ wings cast on the ground before them, blacker than black on the floor. Cas noticed them too, and said softly, “I can’t hold them back. Can’t contain myself when you – ah, when you love me like this.” Dean’s cock was rapidly filling with blood again, and he swayed, steadying himself on Cas. Something about Cas’ words twisted inside him, bringing them ever closer together.

“Come for me, Cas, I wanna see you come.” Dean murmured into him, jamming a fourth finger into him and listening to him cry out.

“Oh, Dean. Dean,” Cas breathed. He pumped himself faster, and Dean fucked his hand into Cas without mercy, hitting his prostate hard. Cas came in seizing shudders, bucking back against Dean as he rode his orgasm out.

_So the world is spinning faster, are you dizzy when you’re stoned?_

_Let the music be your master, will you head the master’s call?_

_Oh, whoa, Satan and man_

Cas stilled against him, letting Dean draw him backwards into his lap. Dean shut his eyes tight as one of Cas’ butt-cheeks brushed his cock. “Dean,” Cas said as their skin brushed together. Dean ran his hands over Cas. He’d fuck the angel, he’d make him scream and moan, but not just yet. Now he’d kiss Cas through his after glow. “I love you,” Cas said softly. “I didn’t think it was possible to love anything this much.”

“I love you, Cas,” Dean said. The satisfaction of finally saying the words hadn’t worn off.

“You make me feel…” Cas paused, and Dean sucked a hickey into the skin of his neck. “Alive. Like every fibre of my being is electric.”

“It is,” Dean said into the nape of his neck. “When I… when I touched your wings, they felt electric.” He ran a hand over Cas’ shoulderblades, and watched Cas’ eyes flutter shut.

“Dean,” The angel said after a time. “I’d like you to fuck me now.”

Dean blinked. He didn’t need telling twice. He repositioned his arms and scooped Cas into them, picking him up as he stood with shaky legs. Cas laughed in surprise before wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck for support. Dean carried him to the back wall, Cas looking up in something which could only be described as adoration all the while. He propped Cas against it as gently as he could, holding him up at the waist while Cas wrapped his leg’s around Dean’s hips. He was still loose and open from earlier, so Dean merely kissed him, hard and sweet, and thrust inside him. He closed his eyes against the tight wetness, and Cas groaned as he bottomed out.

“Dean,” he said, like it was a prayer. “Yes. Oh.” Dean started to move, slowly at first. “Feels so good,” Cas gasped, and Dean decided he liked this, Cas breathless and gasping whatever words came to mind. Cas moaned as Dean brushed his prostate, and Dean rocked his hips so he was hitting it with shallow thrusts, never quite pulling out. “Oh yes, Dean, yes.” Cas’ cock was hardening between their stomachs, and he squeezed his fingers against his handprint. “Full, Dean. So… oh. Close to you. So fucking close to you,” Cas muttered. Dean ghosted his fingers along Cas’ length, making him shudder. “Make love to me,” he said in a low voice. “Harder.” Dean fucked into him harder, still never pulling out. They felt closer this way. _Close to you. So fucking close to you._ Cas’ words played in his head, and he pressed desperate kisses to the angel’s shoulder, flicking his tongue over Cas’ nipples. Cas groaned. “Dean. I love you. Love having you _inside_ me, oh,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut against the unimaginable feelings. “It’s like I’m holding your soul again and you’re holding me and Dean,” he rambled. Dean was losing himself in the wet heat of Cas, and everything blurred together. His touches on Cas’ skin, Cas kisses, the words Cas wreathed around them.

“Dean, I can’t-” he felt feathers on his back, dark gray wings enfolding him. “Hold back,” Cas finished.

Dean gazed in awe at the man – the angel before him. “I love you,” Dean said breathlessly. “Every. Last. Part of you.” He punctuated every word with a thrust, deeply now, pulling out and then slamming all the way back in. Cas’ eyes flew wide, and his lips made an O shape.

“Inside me,” he muttered incoherently against Dean’s neck. “Love you. Fuck. Need you. Show me how you love me. With your hands. Yes, Dean.”

Dean held onto Cas tightly, every thought and care about being gentle gone with the wind. He stroked Cas’ cock in time with his thrusts, and could tell by the clenching of Cas’ muscles he was nearly gone. Cas was breathing a litany of broken praise and prayers in his ear, but as it broke off into a loud moan, Dean lost it. They came apart together, Dean shooting hot cum into Cas, Cas coming across their stomachs. He cried out, and his world shrank in that moment to Cas. Only Cas. It took quite a while for it to return to normal, and when it did, it seemed somehow different.

_Said there ain’t no use in crying, cause it will only only drive you mad_

_Does it hurt to hear them lying? Was this the only world you had?_

_Oh, whoa_

Cas’ wings were still wrapped firmly around Dean. They were lying on the ground on their sides, Dean brushing moss off of Cas’ back. Dirt and cum and the smell of flowers clung to them. That was how Dean read Cas’ first love letter to him. He set it down carefully, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Cas-” he stopped. “I-” He stared into Cas’ eyes, suddenly frantic. Every word, every last unbearably gorgeous word of that letter has fled his mind.

“You don’t remember. You’re not meant to,” Cas told him gently.

“I – what?” Dean asked, panicking.

“I… I made it so you wouldn’t remember. It’s an Enochian spell.” Cas said, running his thumbs over Dean’s chest.

“Why?” Dean asked simply.

“So you could always read it for the first time again,” Cas said, and there was something unreadable in his eyes, something Dean had seen maybe only once before, but it was gone in a flash before he could remember where. “You’ll remember someday. I promise.” Cas said, and squeezed his hand.

Dean nodded. He’d learned a while ago not to question Cas. “This is amazing,” he said instead. Cas smiled, settling his head against Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you. And Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas’ eyes were closed.

“I’m definitely having you talk to me like that again.”

Cas said with a blissed out smile, “As you wish.”

_So let me take you take you to the movie, can I take you baby to the show?_

_Why don’t you let me be yours ever truly? Can I make your garden grow?_

_You know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what you thought! ;)


	27. Piece of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piece of My Heart, by Janis Joplin (Thank you, Ravenwolf36 for recommending this song ages ago!)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJb7cBfrxbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been forever... I'm in the middle of exams and having a severe block on anything creative whatsoever. But I promise, I will never abandon this story!

Dean woke up in the middle of the night, with a buzzing in his chest. He didn’t know any other way to describe it. He carded his hand through Cas’ dusky black hair, and Cas opened his eyes. Sometimes Dean forgot Cas didn’t sleep. They were tangled together from the night before, Cas draped over Dean’s chest. Dark blue pools stared up at him, lazy contentment slowly swirling away, replaced with honest contemplation.

The buzzing in his chest got more intense, and Dean whispered, “I love you.”

Cas’ voice came low and guttural, softened with a brush of his lips to Dean’s chest. “And I, you.”

Dean swallowed. The buzzing wasn’t exactly pleasant, like excitement or lovey-dovey crap. It felt like that ache to be on the road, or that question that just keeps popping up even when you try to shove it down. And so he asked what he’d been wanting to ask for days, heart thumping in his chest. The question sounded loud in the darkness, and harsh in comparison with the gentle touch of Cas’ skin. “What did you mean when you said I’d remember some day?”

Cas stiffened, and Dean swallowed. There it was. The confirmation he’d hoped not to get – that Cas wasn’t telling him something.  

 _Oh, come on, come on, come on, come on!_ __  
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man - yeah!  
An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can?  
Honey, you know I did!  
And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough,  
But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough.

When the silence stretched on, Dean said, “I wanna go somewhere. Somewhere with mountains. We said we’d see those, didn’t we?” He wasn’t sure what sparked the idea, but somehow it felt like the only way forward. He swallowed down the nigh unbearable humming inside of him, like he had to move or change or find whatever Cas was keeping from him. If he couldn’t have that, he’d like the growl of the Impala’s engine and making Cas’ eyes go wide with wonder at new things and the open road.

Cas let out a quiet growl against Dean’s skin, and Dean blinked. He half expected nails to rake up his side at the sound Cas let out, but it sounded more like he was fighting with himself. “When you die,” he finally said. “You’ll remember when you die.”

The buzzing died away, leaving Dean rigid in shock. He bit his lip. He looked at the wall; anywhere but Cas’ wide blue eyes, cheeks dusted with half-light; and said, “Meet me in the Impala.”

Cas was gone before Dean’s feet hit the floor. He noticed his hands shaking as he buttoned up his shirt, and couldn’t stop them. What the fuck? When he died? Why would Cas majorly fuck with his memories like that? The sappier side of him was imagining his whole life, which albeit might not last that long, not knowing what Cas had said. His thoughts growled _Why?_

 _I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,_ __  
Take it!  
Take another little piece of my heart now, baby!  
Oh, oh, break it!  
Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah, yeah, yeah.  
Oh, oh, have a!  
Have another little piece of my heart now, baby,  
You know you got it if it makes you feel good,  
Oh, yes indeed.

He slammed the Impala door. Cas was sitting shotgun, familiar trench coat on again. Dean avoided his gaze, but he could feel Cas staring at him. Dean swallowed, gunned the engine and turned on the music to full blast. He sharply regretted it as soon as he did, but that was just his luck.

They drove until dawn, Janis Joplin singing and screaming at them all the way. The sky was cloudy, so they couldn’t properly see the sunrise. Dean didn’t look at a map the whole way, largely because he didn’t need to. He was driving randomly, taking the highest road whenever there was a choice. Rain flecked the wind shield, and Cas watched the world sail by. They didn’t talk. Dean didn’t know what to say.

They were on a winding mountain road in the middle of nowhere when Dean pulled over. Cas followed him hesitantly. Dean watched Cas, heart heavy as the angel spun all around, taking in the land underneath them, and raindrops fell onto his cheeks. Cas grinned in spite of himself. Dean offered a half-smile, and finally, he broke the silence. “It’s not the Alps, but it’s good enough.” He didn’t even know what state they were in.

Cas blinked, and walked to Dean’s side, slowly, as if he thought the hunter might run away. When Dean stayed still, Cas pressed his shoulder to his side as they leaned against the Impala. Dean started laughing quietly, and then he was crying in the same breath, and hell if he knew why. “Déjà vu,” he said softly.

 _You're out on the streets looking good,_ __  
And baby deep down in your heart I guess you know that it ain't right,  
Never, never, never, never, never, never hear me when I cry at night,  
Babe, and I cry all the time!  
But each time I tell myself that I, well I can't stand the pain,  
But when you hold me in your arms, I'll sing it once again.

“I was selfish,” Cas reflected, leaning into Dean. Dean waited for him. The rain got heavier, soaking the shoulders of Cas’ trenchcoat and running down Dean’s nose. “I… I think hubris is a consistent problem of mine. You’re going to die someday, Dean. You know what heaven is, a rerunning of your best memories. I’ve always found human memory strange. How it changes your memories, tinging them with things you now know and what you think now. I wanted your memories to be pure, independent of the future or the past. Every time you read the letter, it makes a different memory, one which won’t change because you can’t remember it now. When you’re in heaven… dead… you’ll remember a thousand times you read what I wrote to you, and what it meant every time.”

Dean can’t tell if he’s still crying. The rain masks it, if he is. Not that it’s a mask Cas won’t see through. “Damnit,” he says as he takes Cas’ face between his hands. Blue eyes stare, waiting. Anger swirls low in his gut, that Cas would mess with his memories like this, that Cas was thinking about him _dying_ , masking a horrible need to not think about what Cas would do when Dean _did_ die, mixed together with a glorious coping of his heart aching and that strange wonder he’d felt when he saw Cas’ wings for the first time. He manages to growl out, “Just take another piece of my heart, why don’t you?”

Dean thinks that this reference, Cas understands.

 _I'll say come on, come on, come on, come on and take it!_ __  
Take it!  
Take another little piece of my heart now, baby.  
Oh, oh, break it!  
Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah,  
Oh, oh, have a!  
Have another little piece of my heart now, baby,  
You know you got it, child, if it makes you feel good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been replying to reviews lately, I've been so busy, but know that I read every last one of them and they make my day :) <3


	28. You Shook Me All Night Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You Shook Me All Night Long, by Ac/Dc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo2qQmj0_h4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait. Shit's been crazy lately. I hope this explains and concludes the recent angst arc that popped up and makes sense of what's been going on lately. I love y'all :)

_If I died now, I’d die happy._

The thought occurred to him a few days ago, just as he was about to fall asleep. He couldn’t say what sparked it, maybe the gentle weight of Cas’ head on his chest combined with staring up at the ceiling. He marveled that they were _safe._ That no flames were licking up the ceiling, swallowing someone he loved. He gripped Cas a little tighter. Somehow, just the idea that he was safe prompted him to think that even if somehow they weren’t safe, if he died now, it wouldn’t be so bad.

He shook the thought off. Cas’d skin him alive if he knew Dean was thinking that way.

 

The shit hit the fan three days later. Three days; that must be a record for him for him fucking something good up.

He felt Cas’ eyes burning into the nape of his neck, but remained stubbornly with his back to Cas. Instead, he turned up the cassette player as far as it would go. Ac/Dc. He reached for a shotglass and filled it sloppily before downing it. As the burn in his throat subsides, he contemplates exactly how they got here. It’s not really his fault, he tries to tell himself. Cas still isn’t being totally honest, he _knows_ that. Something still don’t fit. And he was just doing his job, like he’d do any other day.

They’d been on a hunt together. Nasty vamp nest ganging up on local high school girls – it felt a bit cliché. Anyway, Sam had been pinned down and Cas was icing vamps like a pro, going to help Sam. The vamp leader, some chick Dean probably woulda thought was hot in another life, had grabbed his gun from the floor. She’d shot at the girl who Dean had told to run, to save herself. Dean thought the bitch had done it just to be, well, a bitch.

Dean had launched himself in front of the bullet. Looking at it now, what else could he have done? Too slow to stop the shot in the first place, too far away from the girl to push her out of the way. He wasn’t just gonna let her die. He bit his lip, and finally looked up at where Cas stood rigidly in the doorway. His trenchcoat hung heavy and bloody off his shoulders, and his eyes were dark and flickering with rage.

_She was a fast machine she kept her motor clean_   
_She was the best damn woman that I ever seen_   
_She had the sightless eyes telling me no lies_   
_Knocking me out with those American thighs_   
_Taking more than her share_   
_Had me fighting for air_   
_She told me to come but I was already there_

“What else could I have done?” He finally spit out, and knocked back another shot of whiskey. Cas had no right to be this angry with him, he tells himself. The angel had teleported himself back to the bunker after the hunt, leaving Dean and Sam to ride back in the Impala. They’d wondered all six hours whether he’d actually be there when they got back. Sam had said, “Diffuse him carefully, alright?” Dean had frowned. Cas wasn’t a bomb. Looking at him now, he thought maybe he’d been wrong. Sam had left the two alone in this wing of the bunker, distancing himself as much as possible.

Cas raised a single eyebrow, and it was an unbearable eternity until he spoke. “The bullet didn’t hit you. Did you notice that?”

Dean blinked, and glanced down at his chest. Cas had appeared in front of him as soon as he’d thrown himself in the bullet’s way, shaking him, eyes blazing, checking him for any visible sign of damage. He’d never known Cas to show such heedless concern before. When Cas had been satisfied the hunter was fine, he’d shoved Dean away and tossed his angel blade to Sam before disappearing. Dean felt numb just thinking about it.

“It didn’t hit you,” Cas continued through gritted teeth, “Because the instant it left the gun, I’d stopped it. Dissolved it into nothing more than ash.”

Dean said slowly, “No harm, no foul.” But he knew this wasn’t going to be that easy.

“You were ready to die,” Cas squinted at him, but it wasn’t the familiar squint of confusion he was used to.

“I did what I woulda done any other day, Cas. We risk our lives hunting all the time.” Dean said, suddenly tired.

Castiel sensed the change in him and strode to Dean, standing uncomfortably close. “It’s different now,” he growled. “It’s meant to be different now.”

Guilt hit him like a slap across the face, but he shoved it down before he bothers to ask where it came from. “Get outta my face, Cas.” He said. Anything to just forget this.

Cas’ eyes snapped up, and his hands curl into fists. “I may be a poor excuse for an angel, but that doesn’t make me powerless,” he snarled.

Dean’s mouth went dry. “What?”

Cas turned his head to once side, jaw set like he regretted speaking. “That’s not of import.”

“You think…” Dean stumbled. “You think I didn’t trust you to save her or something?”

Cas didn’t speak.

_Cause the walls start shaking_   
_The earth was quaking_   
_My mind was aching_   
_And we were making it_   
_And you shook me all night long_   
_Yeah you shook me all night long_

“Damnit, Cas!” Dean let a heavy breath out. “I don’t know if you noticed, but you were kinda busy at the time. Ganking vamps, saving Sam? Yeah. So I didn’t stop and think if you could stop a bullet at the same time. Sue me.” He knew he shouldn’t be angry, that there was something deeper beyond Cas being a dick about Dean trying to save the girl.

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Cas said, but it was almost slurred, said so hurriedly and quietly it was indistinct.

And Dean was reminded of so long ago, when Cas had threatened to throw him back in the Pit, just because he could. Of when Cas went postal and tried to be God, and tried to make them kneel. Of all the times Cas had pulled the _You’re only human_ card. And it didn’t matter that Cas was different now, that they were both different, because he didn’t know how to help this Cas. So he did the only thing he knew how to – he snapped. “Right, that’s why you can fuck with my memories and do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

For a moment, Dean could see the hurt flash onto Cas’ face, rendering it placid with shock. It was gone just as quickly, and Cas reached up, taking Dean by the shoulders. Dean’s vision went blurry as Cas shook him once, hard. “You don’t understand. You’re reckless,” Cas mutters bitterly. “So fucking reckless.” Cas’ mouth twists, and he tries to compose himself. “You’re human, Dean. Mortal. You can’t just…”

“I was saving that girl,” The words hurled themselves stubbornly out of his lips. “That’s what I _do_ , I save people.” His voice sounded hollow. “Just because you’re the angel on my shoulder, that doesn’t mean… that doesn’t change anything. I don’t know if you noticed, but kamikaze is kind of my style.” Heat tingles through him, anger and whiskey in an unholy cocktail.

Cas looked at him, some unpleasant emotion simmering in his eyes. Dean expected Cas to hit him, any minute now. Because Dean was wrong. Of course things have changed. But hunting had seemed like it worked – like they didn’t need to readjust everything when it came to that. And he’d been glad about that, because hunting was just about the only thing that had stayed constant his entire life.

Instead of the outbreak of violence Dean expected, Cas sagged back, leaning against the table heavily. “I see.” Cas’ laugh was a broken, quiet little thing.

_I'm working double time on the seduction line_   
_She's one of a kind she's just mine all mine_   
_Wanted no applause it's just another course_   
_Made a meal outta me_   
_And come back for more_   
_Had to cool me down to take another round_   
_Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing_

“What?” Dean managed.

“Well, I-” Cas threw his arms up. “It’s just the same as before. Except this time I’m broken.” The anger swirling low in his gut evaporated, replaced by a horrible sinking feeling. “You don’t need me to help you.” Cas’ bottom lip twitched. “You didn’t trust me to save you or that girl; why would you? I’ve done nothing but break since I got here.”

Dean stared down at him in disbelief. _Poor excuse for an angel,_ he recalled Cas saying. Damnit. Why the fuck didn’t he listen? “Cas…” and he sat down on the table beside Cas, their arms just brushing. “I‘m broke too, Cas.” He said finally. “Have been for a long time. So if you’re sitting here and telling me that you think I don’t trust you cause you’re broken, or cause you don’t think you’re good at that whole being an angel crap… you’re wrong. I’m kind of the resident expert on broken, you know?”

“No,” Cas said softly. “You-”

“Save it. I don’t want any of that, ‘you’re a role model’ crap.” Dean glanced down at his hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown myself in front of that girl. But it was the heat of the moment, and that’s what I’ve always done. But I think… I think we were wrong. We can’t just be exactly the same and cram ourselves together-” He smirked at the turn of phrase, “-and expect it to turn out right. Hell, why did I think locking you up in here with me would make you feel better? It’s not like an angelic existential crisis is something a bowl of hot soup can fix.” He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing he was going down the wrong track.

“You’ve never made me hot soup,” Cas pointed out, and Dean almost laughed. “But I doubt it would have a great effect. Me not being able to taste it and all.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “That spell we did’s faded, huh?”

Cas nodded.

“Still… I… I shouldn’t have made you stay. Just because I wanted you to. Just because I thought it’d help. You’re not like me, man. You’re an angel and I guess I _don’t_ understand. But it’s kinda common knowledge you shouldn’t cage something with wings,” Dean said, closing his eyes. That sounded like a quote, but he doesn’t remember where from. Rambling. He was rambling, about his feelings of all things.

“You tried to let me go, remember?” Cas said slowly. “I wanted to stay. And for a while, I thought that was wrong of me. That I shouldn’t let myself have what I wanted, as penance. But I did stay, because once, you said you needed me. And I wanted that to be true.”

“It is true.” Dean said roughly. “It’s always been true. Cas, me throwing myself in the way of that bullet, it doesn’t mean what you think it does, alright? God, just trust me on that.” Cas looked at him, and his eyes were so soft and blue Dean thought the room might melt around them. “Y’know, I thought something recently,” he began to confess. “‘If I died now, I’d die happy.’ I know,” he said as Cas’ bottom lip trembled, lost its will to stay still, and fell, leaving his lips parted. “But I couldn’t take it back. And Jesus, I didn’t want you to know about it, because after what you said…” Cas took Dean’s hands in his, and something about the way their skin brushed and their knuckles touched and how their hands fit together was almost too much. “You’re still not telling me everything. Come on, Cas. What gives? Please.”

Cas looked away. “I’m sorry.”

_Cause the walls were shaking the earth was quaking_   
_My mind was aching_   
_And we were making it_   
_And you shook me all night long_   
_Yeah you shook me all night long_   
_Knocked me out I said you_   
_Shook me all night long_   
_You had me shaking and you_   
_Shook me all night long_   
_Yeah you shook me_   
_When you took me_

Just when Dean thought Cas was just going to leave the word hanging, the angel started up again. “I’m afraid you taught me how to feel, and in that, you taught me something beyond need. When you die… you’ll be in heaven. I wanted you to remember me, remember the things I wrote to you there. Irrespective of what happened after, closed off from blood and wars. Is that so much to ask for you, after everything?” It wasn’t a question Cas expected him to answer, Dean could tell that. “I will be alone, forever, wandering the earth. Observing its infinite beauty, its change; Dean, it’s full of miracles. I’m not _afraid_ of what will happen when you die, but I know… well. Hester once said the moment I laid a hand on you, I was lost.” Cas let out a breath. “Perhaps. But when you die, I _will_ be lost.” Cas swallowed with a click. “I’m disgraced to heaven. Despised. I think when I wrapped myself up in wondering what I was, angel or man, here or there, I got so close to the facts I lost sight of them. Dean, when you die, I won’t be able to visit you in heaven. I’m practically forbidden from showing my face there. No, don’t cry. Being lost is not so-”

“We’ll learn. We’ll learn how to be different, and better,” Dean promised with a hoarse voice.

“How to fly?” Cas asked curiously.

_You really took me and you_   
_Shook me all night long_   
_You shook me all night long_   
_Yeah, yeah, you shook me all night long_   
_You really got me and you_   
_Shook me all night long_   
_Yeah you shook me_   
_Yeah you shook me_   
_All night long_

Dean pulled Cas to him, and kissed him roughly. Too many words. Everything was too much. Dean turned so their torsos were pressed together, and Cas drew the hunter into his lap. They kiss hotly, teeth occasionally connecting. After all the things that have been said, Dean wanted to make everything but the present go away. Everything but the here and the now, him and Cas. It wasn’t long before they’re hard and rocking against one another. Dean didn’t question it when Cas snapped his fingers and the music turned off, leaving a pregnant silence.

Cas stripped him carefully, deliberately and then stepped off the desk to take his clothes off. Dean watched each piece of fabric fall to the floor as more glorious bare skin wa revealed. Then Cas came back to him, and Dean groaned as their flesh pressed together. Cas pushed him down against the desk, not roughly but insistently. The mahogany wood was cold against his bare skin as Cas licked at one of his nipples, and pinned his wrists back. Dean could tell this wasn’t going to be how they normally did that, but damn if after everything that wasn’t all right with him.

Dean gasped when Cas’ finger, wet with miraculously appearing lube circles his entrance. It was cold against his hot skin, and he keened as Cas thrust it inside. He’s filled with the sudden desire for Cas to be inside him, deep inside him, like Cas had said in the garden. “Cas,” he whispered.

Cas worked fast, scissoring Dean open like Dean does to him. For once, the angel was almost completely silent. Dean’s moans were the only sound filling the air, along with a few harsh pants from Cas when Dean’s thigh brushed his naked, hard cock. Dean thought it was because Cas had already said so much that he doesn’t moan or talk, and maybe – oh, fuck, that was his prostate – that seemed right to him. So Dean quieted himself, soothed Cas’ frown with a quick kiss against the side of his mouth. The only sounds left were skin on skin and Cas’ fingers slipping inside Dean.

Cas’ fingers leave Dean’s body, and he bit back the impatient moan. Instead, he watched Cas slick up his cock, taking in every detail of the heavenly being before him. Cas lined himself up and let Dean wrap his legs around Cas’ waist before pushing in fast. He didn’t give Dean any time to adjust before he pulled almost all the way out, only the head of his dick staying inside Dean, and thrust back in again. Dean clung to his lover, jolts of electric pleasure flying through his body at every thrust.

They fucked hard and deep, rocking the desk back with every thrust. Dean savored the dull ache and stretch of being full. Cas held his hips tightly and bit at his neck, but it felt good. It felt like they were claiming each other back. He listened to the silence, the slap of their skin together, Cas’ soft sighs. He could just make out the shadow of wings flickering in time with Cas’ eyelids fluttering shut. It occurred to him then, albeit in a garbled and sex-hazed way, that part of what he loved about Cas is this very angelic power, how strange and beautiful and -

He came first, untouched between their stomachs, pressed down against the desk. Cas’ lips formed his name silently, and Dean clenched around him. Every thrust felt like too much, new oversensitive pleasure flooding through him, and then Castiel was coming, thrusting into him faster and erratically, Dean’s name bleeding from his mouth only once. Cas’ hot release shot inside of him.

Dean blinked up at Cas as the angel carried him back through the corridors, cleaned the cum off their chests with a warm washcloth, folded their clothes and draped himself over Dean. Somehow, they were all right, still. Dean thought somewhere in the back of his mind that he was damn sure they’d never listen to Ac/Dc again, and then he fell asleep. This time no unwanted thoughts popped to the surface of his preconscious, and he didn’t wake up when Cas smiled into his torso and tears of something akin to happiness peppered the hollow of his neck.


	29. She Don't Care About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She Don't Care About Time, by The Byrds  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4eMoFpWFgU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this song, and hope you will too! This is part one of two for a Valentine's Day chapter - I simply couldn't fit it all into one chapter. Hope you like it. I'm locked up on a mountain cramming for a math exam, but I have nothing else to do, so I'm hoping to update every day for about the next week or so, to make up for the lack of chapters lately. Enjoy!  
> P.S. Also, I edited the Christmas chapter. Cas now has a lucky penny necklace instead of the original symbol necklace, because I thought lucky pennies were more... human, idk. So if you noticed the change, you're not going crazy.

Things have been good. Real good. The snow would come and go, but Cas stayed. Every day, he took pictures with that stupid Polaroid camera Sam gave him; usually, pictures of Dean when Cas thought he wasn't looking. The lucky penny stayed firmly around the angel's neck, too. In fact, things have been so good, that Dean largely forgot that today it was Valentine's Day.

"Fuck," he groaned. It was maybe 3 a.m., and the water he had ventured to the bathroom to get sloshed over the edge of the cup and onto the floor when he realized.

It wasn't like he wanted them to be some Hallmark family, or like Cas needed to know all the values of 'Un-attached Drifter Christmas'. Aside from these facts and the one that Cas was the relationship he'd had over three weeks, Cas meant a whole fucking lot to him. In America, when somebody meant something to you, you bought them too much chocolate and stupid cards with hearts on them and you decorated your bedroom with candles in the hope of getting laid.

He could get into the Impala right now and put his foot on the gas until he got to the nearest 24 hour department store and buy all the regular shit. Show Cas Valentine's Day, the 'traditional' way. Pretend he hadn't forgotten.

Something just didn't seem right about that, though. Maybe it was because Cas was one in a million, angel powers and the fact they'd met when he rescued Dean from hell not withstanding. And a box of chocolates and some prissy smelling candles just didn't do that justice. So he downed the remnants of his glass of water and tiptoed past his and Cas' bedroom, sat down in front of the cassette desk, and set about thinking.

 

_Hallways and staircases everyday to climb_  
_To go up to my white walled room out on the end of time_

Cas found him a few hours later, a bit after seven in the morning. Cas appeared in the middle of the room, hair sticking up in all directions, light flashing off the bronze penny that lay against his collarbone. He was shirtless and wearing one of Dean's pairs of sweatpants, because that was how they slept. Dean knew he really oughta tell the guy to put clothes on, for Sammy's sake, but also couldn't bear to. "Dean?" Cas asked.

Dean stood up as music began to fill the room. He'd turned the cassette deck on as soon as he heard the tell-tale flap of wings, and now he grinned. "Morning."

Cas cocked his head to one side. "You didn't come back."

Guilt smacked into the pit of Dean's stomach. He'd forgotten Cas didn't really sleep. "I, uh... Sorry." His voice cracked, because suddenly, the fact that he got up for a glass of water in the middle of the night and didn't come back meant way more than it should, to both of them.

Cas shrugged, gaze wandering around the room. It was _their_ room, the one they'd discovered back in the beginning, with the hidden butterflies in glass and the pool of sunlight right under the window.

"I'm always gonna come back," Dean said, mouth dry. Things had been good, but in a way, he knew they were fragile, too. Like the foundations were only just being built.

But then, the slight frown melted away from Cas' face and he smiled. Someone who didn't know him wouldn't have recognized it as a smile, per say, because it was so small, but it was there nonetheless. "I know." He said, his voice husky with the morning.

_Where I can be with my love, for she is all that is mine_  
_And she'll always be there, my love don't care about time_

"I was kinda hopin' you come find me, actually," Dean said. "C'mere," he said, softer now, his breath catching a little at the sight of Cas. The marks all along his chest and neck were fading now, but his nipples were pink and clamoring for Dean's attention.

Cas strode across the distance between them, shoving Dean back on the chair he'd been sitting on and straddling him. If Dean's breath had been short before, it left him completely now. Cas was kissing him before Dean had a chance to say anything else, lips hot and soft, just for him. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, sliding his hands over the deliciously bare skin. They kissed deeply, Dean's tongue mapping out the inside of Cas' mouth. Cas moaned into him, and it became all too clear why he was so eager. "Cas," Dean said, breaking off the kiss to brush his lips over Cas' shoulder, "How come angels get morning wood?"

Cas declined to answer, rutting against Dean's thigh. Dean groaned. He'd meant to have some important, Valentine's Day conversation, but this was definitely better. He cupped Cas' throbbing erecting in his hand, petting him through the fabric. "Y'know this song means something to me." Cas' eyes rose to Dean, hazy with pleasure but paying attention. "Makes me think of you," Dean said, pressing a kiss to the edge of Cas' lips even as Cas panted.

“It’s… wonderful, Dean,” Cas said, brow creasing at the sensations.

"I don't love you just because you know how to be human, or feel like one," Dean managed, grinding up against Cas' pelvis. "I love you for everything you are." It's funny, how much easier it's gotten to say that. He slipped his hand under the waistband of Cas' sweatpants and wrapped his fingers around Cas' cock, before starting to stroke him.

Cas fumbled at the buttons on Dean's shirt, eventually undoing them all and sliding his hands across Dean's torso. Dean's cock jumped as Cas' thumb brushed over his nipple and Cas just smirked before doing it again. Dean jacked Cas in long, hard strokes, trailing kisses along Cas' jaw. The light played across the left side of Cas' body, throwing his muscles and scars into stark contrast. "Everything you are," Dean repeated when he started to see the shadows of Cas' wings stretch across the wall.

_I laugh with her, cry with her, hold her close she is mine_  
_The way she tells me of her love and never is she trying_

Cas moaned against Dean's lips, eyes wide. Dean leaned in, and captured one of Cas' nipples between his teeth. Cas threw his head back as Dean sucked on it, swirling his tongue around the pebbled flesh in lazy strokes. And then Cas was coming, shooting cum over Dean's hand and on his own thigh. Dean watched him in a rapture, the way Cas' eyes squeezed shut before coming wide, wide open and the breathless moans that escape his lips, those beautiful lips that hang open, begging to be claimed. That's exactly what Dean did, but after a moment of kissing, Cas struggling to reciprocate through his post-orgasmic daze, Cas slid off Dean's lap and came to kneel between his legs. Dean groaned in protest at the sudden lack of friction on his dick, before Cas yanks his jeans open. Dean briefly wondered why he bothered to get dressed at all in the first place, and then Cas is sinking down on him, swallowing his cock up into slick heat. Dean moans loudly, hips rocking. "Shit," he whispered. He was already close and Cas knew it. Cas' nose bumped into Dean's stomach, and he looked straight up into Dean's eyes, a goddamn invitation to come down his throat.

"Fuck, fuck, Cas," Dean said, his voice cracking as Cas hollowed his cheeks and sank down on him again. Ecstasy swells up and bursts through him unbridled as he twined his fingers in Cas' hair, staring down into his lover's eyes. Cas only pulls off when Dean has rode out his climax, swallowing deeply before saying in that hoarse voice that screamed of sex, "I love you."

Dean's lips hung gently parted as he stared down at his angel. Cas got to his feet, legs shaking, before he collapsed onto Dean's lap once more. They stay like that for quite some time, in silence, their foreheads pressed together and sweat cooling on their necks. "Happy Valentine's Day," is all Dean could think to say. Cas half-frowned and half-smiled, that expression which said, _I'm glad you're happy, but have no clue what you're talking about._ "I'll show you," Dean breathed out.

_She don't have to be assured of many good things to find_  
_And she'll always be there, my love don't care about time_

Dean dragged Cas into the shower. “See, Valentine’s Day is what I used to refer to as Unattached Drifter Christmas.” The side of Dean’s mouth twitched up bitterly, but the expression was gone as soon as he pulled Cas’ sweatpants off. “It’s a holiday for couples.”

“I’m aware,” Cas said slowly, eyes dancing over Dean’s body as he stripped.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You remember those cassettes I got you for Christmas?” Cas nodded once, eyes sparking. “I made you a mixtape. Songs I… thought you might like.” He said shyly, realizing how much of a teenage girl he sounded like. He switched the shower on and steps under the scalding hot water, just to have something to distract him, pulling Cas in with him. “We’re gonna go somewhere for the day, somewhere special, and I’ll play it for you. You can pick the place if you like, hell, we can go wherever you want.” He was babbling, he knew. Cas was grinning at him, though, so he kept on talking. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go full-on –normal on this or not.” He broke off, not sure if Cas would go for the normal dinner-and-movie combo. It seemed a little... highschool-esque, after everything.

“Dean,” Cas said, pressing up against the hunter’s body and whispering in his ear, “I would like to be somewhere alone with you, far away from other people, where I can hear you moan all night long.”

Dean gulped. Yes, this was the guy he loved. He reached out, got a handful of shampoo, and worked it through Cas’ hair. The angel frowned, but submitted to Dean’s touches, and closed his eyes. “I’d like that,” Dean said in a low voice. If he hadn’t just come, his dick would’ve been seriously interested in Cas’ words.

Dean would never admit it, but yes, he likes having someone mess with his hair in the shower and flick bubbles at him and trail soapy fingertips along his back. In short, he likes girly showers.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice came from behind him. The angel’s arm was wrapped around Dean’s sudsy stomach, drawing circles in the bubbles there. The angel rocked against Dean’s ass, and Dean gasped as he felt Cas’ erection there. “I want you.”

Dean spun around, blood rushing to his cock just from Cas’ words, and pinned Cas back against the shower tiles. He glanced around. There was nothing in the shower stall which could even possibly be used for lube, apart from the conditioner. He bit his lip, but Cas just snapped his fingers and the familiar bottle of lube appeared. Dean grinned. “You really gotta show me more of your angel mojo sometime. I bet it has,” he lowered his voice, hunkering in close, “All kinds of uses.” Cas raised a single eyebrow as he opened the lube bottle, pouring some on his own fingers. Dean’s eyes widened as he watched Cas reach his hand behind himself and start to open himself up. Dean sank down to his knees and licked up Cas’ length. Cas breathed raggedly, trying to stay focused as Dean teased him. He was nearly coming by the time he yanked his fingers away and shoved Dean away. Dean grinned as Cas said his name in a rush, a hard, desperate edge to the word. “Dean.” Dean spun him around so Cas’ palms were on the tile and spread the angel’s ass cheeks before pushing into hot, wet, oblivion. The water from the shower pounded on his back as he started to thrust into Cas. Cas cried out, canting his hips back to meet Dean’s thrusts, fingers scrabbling at the tile for purchase. Dean put his palms over the back of Cas’ hands so their fingers half intertwined, and it took only three well-placed thrusts before Cas was practically shouting with pleasure, dick spattering cum into constellations on the shower wall and on Cas’ stomach. Dean grinned as he worked Cas through it, watching as the angel’s body started to jerk from overstimulation.

_Her eyes are dark and deep with love, her hair hangs long and fine_  
_She walks with ease and all she sees is never wrong or right_

“You told me you had utter control of your vessel once,” he whispers, low and harsh in Cas’ ears. He wrapped his hand around Cas’ softening cock, circling his thumb around the head. “Can you come again for me?”

Cas blinked and hazarded a glance back at Dean. In response, his penis started to harden again in Dean’s hand. Dean let out a low breath. “I want you to come with me,” he clarified before slamming into Cas’ prostate. Cas was coming apart before Dean’s very gaze, and Dean loved every second. Loved every second of being inside him, of watching his cheeks get flushed and his eyes acquire that tell-tale hungry glint.

“Castiel,” Dean moaned, feeling the edge of release getting nearer and nearer.

Cas bucked his hips back in response, and Dean can feel Cas’ dick throb in his hand. “Dean, god, Dean,” Cas said breathlessly.

“Yes, fuck,” Dean bit into Cas’ shoulder as they fell off the edge together, pleasure flooding through them and reducing the world to this narrow view of a steamed up shower cubicle and tangled together fingers.

_And with her arms around me tight I see her all in my mind_  
_And she'll always be there my love don't care about time_

They come to rest on the floor of the shower cubicle, the water pouring between their chests, limbs entangled. “I love you,” Cas said absently, mouthing at Dean’s neck.

Dean regarded the angel with an unusually tender expression. “Yeah,” he said finally, a little too proudly. Cas rolled his eyes and rested his forehead on Dean’s shoulder. It was only when the water started to run cold that they reluctantly dressed. “You ready to go?” Dean asked, making sure that their hands stay firmly together as they walked barefoot through the bunker.

Cas nodded. “One minute,” and he ducked into their room to get something. Dean watched him go, the last chorus of the Byrds’ song echoing through his head, and a smile spread across his face.

_She'll always be there, my love don't care about time_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought ;)


	30. Blue Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue Letter, by Fleetwood Mac (My Favorite Fleetwood Mac song!! Ironically written by somebody outside of the group, but still.)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9Ddl52hbaM

Dean walked into the library to wait. Sam was sitting at the table, nose buried in a book, looking like a puppy that got kicked. Dean frowned, and sat on the edge of the table by him. “You look like shit,” he supplied helpfully.

Sam raised his head to glare briefly.

“Eileen?” Dean ventured.

“She has some thing about how I’m not meant to call her, she’s the one that calls me,” Sam waved a hand in the air.

“Come on. Really?” Dean considered his brother for a moment. “So, what, it’s Valentine’s Day and she hasn’t called you and you’re sulking?”

“Basically, yeah.” Sam let out a breath.

Dean thought about it for a moment. “You know where she is?”

“Finishing a hunt up in Bend, Oregon,” Sam said slowly.

Dean nodded. “So go find her. Come on,” he said when he saw Sam’s face, “Be assertive. Girls don’t like a pushover.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean thought he was about to get a feminist rant about how doing what your girlfriend told you wasn’t being a pushover, but what he got instead was, “Right. You’re so good with girls you ended up banging a male angel.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You – I – that doesn’t even-“ he ran a hand through his hair and glared. “Whatever.” Then, he added somewhat sheepishly, “We’re going out for a drive.” He paused. “A long drive.”

Could Sam’s smirk get any wider? “Did you pack a picnic basket and a sleeping bag for two?”

Dean wrinkled his face up in response, but thankfully he was saved from responding by Cas’ footsteps in the hall. “I’m telling you. Assertive,” he said, pointing a finger in Sam’s direction as he retreated out the door.

Once they were in the hallway, Dean couldn’t stifle his grin at Cas. Cas was in his familiar trench coat once more, but the Polaroid was clenched firmly between his hands. Jesus, Dean felt like he was taking a girl to Prom for the first time. Not that he’d really know what that felt like – his brief interludes at various schools had never been timed right for him to go to Prom. Which was probably a good thing, given how much he’d hated all the various schools him and Sam had gone to. Anyway, he imagined the feeling was close enough.

Dean held Cas’ door open for him while he climbed in and then walked around the other side, sliding into the seat and letting out a sigh of satisfaction at that perfect smell of leather. He turned the key in the ignition and then abruptly realized he had no idea where they were going. “Where to, Cas?” He asked softly.

Cas stopped to think. After a moment, he pulled something out of the pocket of his trench coat. Upon further inspection, Dean saw that it was one of the cassette tapes he had given Cas. “You only played me the first song,” Cas said, holding it up.

Dean smiled and took it, letting their fingers brush. He queued it to the second song, pressed play, and music began to fill the car.

“As for where we should go, I was thinking everywhere.” Cas said easily.

“Everywhere,” Dean repeated.

“Everywhere that holds a special place in me,” Cas conceded. “Except heaven,” he mused darkly. “Anyway. I want to show you everywhere that… meant something to me,” he said, the human phrasing falling awkwardly from his tongue.

Dean smiled to himself. “All right.”

“It’ll be faster this way,” Cas said, laying one hand on the steering wheel and the other on Dean’s wrist.

_It was a blue letter she wrote to me_

_Its silver words she told_

_Want to be on the road to paradise_

_I want a lover that don’t get old_

_Do I read a message in your eyes?_

_You wanna love to stay another night_

_Baby when your day goes down_

_I won’t be waiting around for you_

Dean’s vision whited out and he had the briefest sensation of flying, before he came to, standing in a deserted library. “Uh, Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas said, rifling through a nearby shelf.

“Where’s my car?” Dean asked.

“Outside.” Cas pulled a book out of the shelf and held it in his palm reverently.

“And we are…?”

“In the library Metatron hid my grace in,” Cas said nonchalantly, holding the thin green volume up to Dean’s eyes. He only had time to read the word _Poetry_ before Cas yanked it away and started flipping through the pages.

Dean was takenaback. “And this is your happy place… why?”

“Well, as I lay on the floor bleeding and cursing myself, I happened to notice this book. Just out of reach. And I thought, I wonder what’s inside it. I dragged myself up, because there was something strange about it, something that made me want to read it. And the first page I flipped to said this-” Cas cleared his throat and Dean watched him, heart beating a strange rhythm, “ _‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers – that perches in the soul – and rings the tune without the words – and never stops – at all._ I don’t know whether I would have gotten up if it weren’t for that.” Cas said, shrugging. “It made me come back to you.”

Dean’s throat had closed up. A cacophony of emotions were wailing for his attention. First, that he’d been so wrapped up in the Mark he hadn’t been able to help Cas. He pushed away the twinge of guilt, because then there was the fact that if it weren’t for something so completely unconnected to him, he might never have laid eyes on Cas again. This fragment of a poem, previously unknown to him, had just entered his mind as another thread tying him and Cas together. When he finally managed to speak, the words that came out were, “How come you’re more human than anyone I know?”

Cas blinked once. “I… don’t understand.”

Dean took a step closer. “You explained once that angels aren’t hardwired to feel, they’re just meant to be soldiers. And I’ve seen your wings, your grace. You’re full on divine essence of holy fuck, you know? But you… feel things…” he blinked. Those words didn’t come too easily to him either. “More deeply than anyone.”

Cas turned away, the light silhouetting the line of his jaw. “I don’t know.” He sounded small and lost and Dean remembered then, goddamnit, that that’s part of what Cas had been struggling with for so long.

“I love it,” Dean blurted out. “OK?” And it wasn’t like he hadn’t said this before, or at least implied it, but he had to say it again. “I love that you’re both. That you’re everything.” He reached out impulsively, and held Cas’ wrist in his hand, making circles with his thumb.

_For every voice you’ve ever heard_

_There’s a thousand without a word_

_Red bird, don’t say you told me so_

_Give me one more song to go_

Scarcely a second went by, and they were standing in the middle of what appeared to be a rose garden. Indeed, the sign by the gate confirmed it – Berkeley Rose Gardens. The light was nearly blinding after the dark library, and Dean squinted. By the time his eyes adjusted, Cas was already walking through the rows of roses, grinning at each one like it was an old friend. “I came here after I took on Sam’s madness,” Cas called over his shoulder, and Dean strode to catch up with him. “It was spring then, so there were more roses. There are still a few,” he added contemplatively. “I sat here, for days. Nights. People probably thought I was homeless. The people came and went, and the petals dropped off, and in a way, I think I was determined to be the one constant thing about this place. Even the concrete under our feet is being worn away.” Dean glanced down. “But eventually, I left too. I sought other flowers, other places. I went back to Meg, occasionally, and to you when you called. There’s _nothing_ permanent about this place.” Cas reaches down, and strokes his thumb along the petal of a dark red rose. “Nothing,” he repeated. “And that says… well, I don’t know. Perhaps the most wonderful things are transient.” Cas finished, his eyes a little misty.

“If you start comparing me to a rose, I’ll-” he couldn’t think of a suitable threat. “I have an arsenal in the trunk,” he muttered.

Cas’ lips twitched. “Hmm.” He tilted his head to one side. “You know, now that you mention it-”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean breathed, and dragged Cas in for a kiss. It’s soft and hot all at once and a thousand times better than being compared to a flower.

_Do I read the message in your eyes?_

_You wanna love to stay another night_

_Baby when your day goes down,_

_I won’t be waitin’ around for you_

_Oh yeah._

The world around him rattles and hums before settling down into the shape of a Greyhound bus. “Um…” Dean said, looking around. The only other passenger was a guy looking to be somewhere in his thirties, blowing balloon animals. He waved, not seeming bothered by the fact that two men had appeared on a moving bus locked at the lip.

“After I found the angel tablet… after I nearly killed you, and I left, I ended up on a bus going down this exact highway. And it was the first time,” Cas laughed, ducking his head, “I realized that maybe the idea of heartbreak could apply to me too.” Dean closed his eyes. “You said you needed me, but I – I couldn’t stay. The finer intricacies of human emotion: wanting, loving, wishing, those take longer to comprehend. But _needing_ something, that was easy to understand. And I wondered if the plants ached for sunlight when it was dark, and I realized I was breaking. It was… the strangest thing.” Cas trailed off then, and when he looked back up, his face darkened. “I’ve made you sad. I’m sorry. I didn’t – I just –”

“It’s OK,” Dean said. Because it was. He’d take this over a thousand Nicholas Sparks movies with ice cream afterwards. The tear that was running down his cheek: it was OK. This _meant_ something, and while it might engage his emotions in a visceral game of tug-of-war, delving deeper into Cas, understanding the mystery wrapped up in a trench coat and angel wings, that was worth it. It was worth crying on a bus while the man behind you made a balloon butterfly. But it wasn’t worth not yanking it out of the guy’s hands and handing it to your boyfriend, because for fuck’s sake, it was Valentine’s Day.

_For every voice you’ve ever heard_

_There’s a thousand without a word_

_Red bird, don’t say you told me so_

_Give me one more song to go_

“There are so many more places,” Cas said, “But the sun sets early, and I want to take you back somewhere before it does.”

Dean gasped out a startled laugh as they appeared on the floor of the Grand Canyon. “What the hell, Cas?” He asked, still laughing.

Cas eyed the orange and yellow marbled wall behind them. “I’ve noticed couples do an odd thing before. They carve their names into trees, or rocks and soforth, to mark a spot as theirs. I consider this spot ours,” Cas said bluntly.

Dean bites back the reply that technically it belongs to the government. “So, what, you want a ‘Dean and Cas were here’ type thing?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Cas smiled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“All right.” _This guy could want the moon and I’d phone up Crowley and ask for it._ He dug through his pockets and found a small but sturdy knife, glancing up at Cas as he approached the rock face. There was no one around, weirdly enough, and he was positive they weren’t allowed in this part. It wasn’t really a rule he minded breaking.

“I was thinking a little more…” Cas trailed off, his hand first nudging at Dean’s to direct it further up, before taking a hold of Dean’s hand, spinning them around so Cas’ back was against the rock wall, dragging him in close and kissing him.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean said, breaking away for air. “What are you-”

Cas slammed their lips together again, and Dean braced himself against the wall of the goddamn Grand Canyon with one hand above Cas’ head, before licking his way inside Cas’ mouth. A wave of fire rolled from the tips of his toes to his ends of his hair, and not some metaphorical fire of lust, a wave of hot, burning, electric _something_ , up his body. The air cracked around them.

He pulled away, wide-eyed, and Cas turned, nestling himself comfortably back in Dean’s arms to admire his handiwork.

Stamped on the wall of the Grand Canyon are two giant wing impressions and a single hand print, off-center between them. Dean’s laugh came out more as a stuttered gasp. “Yeah, that’ll do the trick.” He blinked, and blinked again. “Defacing government property in the name of love? You sure do know how to show a guy a good time,” he snickered into Cas’ neck, shock boiling low in his stomach. Every time Cas revealed his angel powers, another part of his _grace,_ it sent him reeling. The feelings it stirred in him were of pure intensity and beauty and also, Jesus, how badly he wanted to fuck Cas.

Cas laughed, like he knew exactly where Dean’s thoughts were going. “I think that says Dean Winchester and Castiel were here quite clearly, don’t you?” When Dean rocked against his back in response, Cas’ voice dropped and he said, “One last stop.” The world disappeared in a rush.

_Do I read the message in your eyes?_

_You wanna love to stay another love_

_Baby when your day goes down_

_I won’t be waiting around for you_

They appeared in a pine forest in the middle of nowhere. The Impala, much to Dean’s relief, was standing beside them, faithfully playing the last of the Fleetwood Mac song. Dean looked around, wondering where exactly they are. Something about the place set a prickling sense of familiarity through his bones, and he scans along the horizon, blazing with sunset. All the trees immediately around them looked to have fallen maybe a decade ago, with some new saplings tentatively taking their place. Dean frowned. There was a circle of barren land, topped with fallen trees all around them. That seemed… His eyes fell on a single wooden cross marker, and all the breath left his body.

“Are we…”

“Yes. This is where you came back.” _Where I clawed my way out of my own grave,_ Dean added silently. As if he read his mind, Cas spoke again. “I would’ve come to dig you out, if I’d understood better what I do now. I was still a wavelength of celestial power, far removed from human struggles. I hadn’t taken a vessel yet. I didn’t know what that would have been like.” Dean opened his mouth, to let Cas know it was all right, but Cas kept talking. “I was so sure you would be able to understand my true voice, when I spoke to you.”

“Why?”

Cas paused. “You don’t remember me rebuilding you, do you?”

“I – no.” Dean’s brow furrowed.

“After I rescued you, your soul, it was – well. Tormented. Taken to the edge of shattering. Partially dissolving into black smoke. I reconstructed you. I couldn’t take away the memories, or the pain, but I took away what it did to you. Some of it, anyway. I never really thought there was a chance you remembered, but I always wondered.” Cas said, his voice softer now.

“Remember what?” The words sounded blunt, even to him.

“Well.” Cas frowned. “I don’t know how to put it, exactly. While I was remaking you, I wasn’t in a body. It was just my grace and your soul, after I dragged you out. I suppose that’s what I was talking about when I mentioned our ‘profound bond.’” Cas said, his fingers forming over-exaggerated air-quotes. “We were intimate in perhaps the most spiritual sense possible.”

Dean gulped. Tears were pricking the back of his eyes again.

“I didn’t bring you here to make you cry,” Cas said helplessly, eyes searching Dean’s face. “I wanted to show you our start. However bloody, and I can scarcely imagine what digging your way out of your own grave feels like - however strange our start was, it led to something…” Cas hesitated. “Beautiful. That’s what I wanted to show you. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, you spend your whole life not crying, and it has a funny way of coming around when you least expect it,” Dean said, his face screwed up. “It’s OK. Trust me when I say it’s OK.” He didn’t bother to wipe away his tears. This was something they had shared, from the beginning of Cas’ time at the bunker. It was all right for them to see each other cry. It was all right to sit shoulder to shoulder and let the tears flow. That, he supposed, was a different beginning of theirs. “In fact,” he said, thinking of where they were now, “It’s good.” Cas’ face melted into a kind of understanding, and he cupped Dean’s cheek before kissing him deeply.

_I ain’t waitin’_

_I ain’t waitin’_

_Come on, I ain’t waitin’_

_I ain’t waitin’._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me, Valentine's Day is going to get divided into three parts, because I couldn't cut down the angsty fluff for this chapter in time to give you sexy times.  
> The poem is a part of the poem Hope by Emily Dickinson. It's lovely.  
> Also, I need song recs. *Classic rock* please, added bonus if they're about sex because I have many smutty chapters coming up planned. I may not be able to use all of your song suggestions, but I'm eternally grateful to you for taking the time to read and review :) Love y'all!


	31. Little Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Wing, by Jimi Hendrix  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03yPUlBE5OU  
> The conclusion of my Valentine's Day three-parter. Complete with a copious amount of porn.

It started to rain.

That was all it took for Castiel to burst into a rather unholy fit of laughter and gaze up at the sky, as thunder rolled.

Dean watched him laugh with that sort of steady adoration that people who have fallen in love only begin to show after they realize how deeply they’ve fallen. It said, _I know exactly how bad I’ve got it, and it’s OK. Good, even._ They stood in the rain for a good ten minutes, Cas gazing up at the sky like every goddamn drop of rain was a miracle. When Cas finally met Dean’s eyes, he said, “It’s washing everything clean.” Then, “We can go home now.” They walked slowly to the Impala. Cas put one hand on the hood and the other on Dean’s shoulder, and then they standing on the stretch of road just in front of the bunker. Dean looked steadily up at the old place. _Home._ Would he ever get used to that word? Accept it, sure, but get used to it? Maybe not.

“Wait for me inside,” he said to Cas with one crooked eyebrow. Cas’ eyes narrowed for a split second, but then he disappeared. Dean stood alone, rain soaking into his clothes. Turned out there was a storm back in Kansas too. Dean walked around the car and lifted the trunk of the Impala open. Valentine’s Day arsenal – check. He grabbed the duffel bag containing what he needed and strode inside. Sam had damn well better not be home tonight.

The hallway was satisfyingly silent, and when he poked his head into the library, he found a note taped to the table. “Back in 2 days. Don’t die.” And then a scrawl which Dean supposed was meant to be Sam’s name. Dean grinned. “See, Sammy?” He muttered.

He whistled on the way to his bedroom. An empty bunker was good news. He swallowed. The door was open and the third song on the mixtape he’d made was playing. _Sneaky bastard,_ he thought. _That was meant to be my job._ And then, _does he just teleport that thing with him everywhere?_ The idea was touching, if a bit strange. He stepped over the threshold of the doorway, and his jaw dropped.

_Well she's walking through the clouds_

_With a circus mind that's running wild_

“Hendrix,” Cas said, looking proud at the identification. He was also stark naked. And leaning against the headboard of the bed, looking like a lounging cat. “You’re right – he was a genius.”

“Uh,” Dean stammered intelligently. It was dark in the room – Cas hadn’t bothered to turn on the light – and so he couldn’t even _see_ all of Cas, just what slivers of skin the dim light revealed. And he was already hard in his jeans. Fuck. He opened the duffel bag carefully, too carefully, and starts pulling items out. He could feel Cas’ eyes on his back, but he didn’t stop. Not until he’d pulled his lighter out of his pocket, fumbled, even struck out trying to light it the first time, and then lit the first candle. He heard Cas exhale sharply as the tiny light danced, casting shadows all across the walls. Dean smiled. Romance – that stuff was hard, though he tried. But romantic sex? That, he could do.

Twenty-six candles later, the room was basked in an orange glow, and Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes dark and glimmering eagerly. The candles, Dean absentmindedly realized, smelled like roses. No wonder the lady at the check out desk had chuckled when he bought two sets of thirteen. Whatever.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was low, so fucking low and gravelly and already tainted with want. Dean turned slowly, a confident smirk spreading across his face as he started to unbutton his shirt. He could just see Cas’ Adam’s apple bob in the candlelight. Dean stripped, completely. Maybe a little slower than he might have done normally, because the way Cas’ eyes darted over every inch of him made heat prickle under his skin.

His steps across the room felt light. He threw a leg over both of Cas’ and straddled him, just like Cas had done to him this morning. The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched up, forming a lazy grin. Dean locked eyes with Cas as he lined them up and wrapped a hand around both their erections. He didn’t move. Cas looked up at him, waiting. “Trust me?” Dean asked, the phrase familiar between them.

“Always.”

“All right,” Dean said, biting back a grin from Cas’ response. “I’m going to fuck you every way you can imagine.” Cas gulped. “But here’s the thing. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.” One of Cas’ eyebrows lifted up. If they were two normal people, this’d be pretty kinky, Dean thought absentmindedly. But this was him and Cas, and Cas insisted he had utter control over himself. Something about that just made Dean want to make him lose control. “Shouldn’t be a problem since you have total control, right?” Dean breathed against Cas’ ear, nibbling at the lobe.

Cas’ jaw set with the challenge. “No.” He said easily.

Dean kissed his cheekbone before delving into the duffel bag at the foot of the bed and withdrawing a bottle of lube. One of five or so. OK, maybe the lady at the checkout counter had been fully justified in laughing at him. It paid to be prepared.

At least so he thought, because when he squeezed some onto his fingers, it became evident the entire world was conspiring against him. Rose-scented. _Valentine’s Day Special,_ he could make out on the label. Fuck. He really shoulda read the label before chucking it in the basket.

“You know, Dean, what you said in the garden had me thinking. Roses are so-”

“Don’t.” Dean growled. He circled a finger slick with lube around Cas’ nipple, watching as Cas’ head fell back. The angel was silent. It might be Valentine’s Day, but fuck him if he was gonna spend it being compared to flowers.

Dean guided Cas back against the pillows at the end of the bed before pushing him down with a firm hand to his shoulder. Cas’ eyes screamed how ready he was, how willing. “Just because you started on the goddamn rose thing again,” he whispered, “I’m gonna drag this out.” Cas smiled a little, and Dean turned his face away with one side, kissing along his jaw. Down to his collarbone. Licked circles in the hollow between the two bones and nipped at Cas’s neck. He ran his hands up Cas’ torso, toying with his nipples. Cas’ gasps were sharp, short, and sweet. Cas’ skin tasted like rain. Dean worked his way down Cas’ body, kissing the inside of his wrists and elbows, the curve of his shoulders, all along his torso down to his left hipbone. That’s where Dean made the first mark. Cas whimpered, hips rocking up against Dean’s lips. His cock was right next to Dean’s face, and it would be so easy to take it into his mouth, suck off the precome that was beading at the tip. But he didn’t. Because damnit, Cas was going to be begging for it before Dean even touched him. Dean grinned against Cas’ skin. He was gonna make this good.

_Butterflies and zebras, moonbeams and fairytales_

_That's all she ever gives to me_

He was kissing Cas’ ankles and trailing his hands over the angel’s thighs. Cas’ expression was frozen somewhere between a frown and awestruck wonder, which Dean suspected was largely because he’d never done anything like this before. Normally, he liked to get down to business. What he was doing now, taking Cas apart with his mouth and fingers, paying attention to all the parts of the body he never in a million years would’ve thought were sexual – it was new. And if he was having any trouble deciding whether he liked it or not, Cas’ moans answered the question for him.

“Dean,” Cas panted as Dean sucked a hickey on his inner thigh. Precome was oozing from Cas’ cock, running in thick dribbles down the length of him. Dean looked up, lips parted, waiting. Cas bit his lip. “T-touch me,” he stammered, voice broken and husky.

It wasn’t exactly begging, but it was good enough for him. Dean grinned, and darted his tongue along Cas’ shaft, licking up the precome. Cas threw his head back. Dean’s own cock was trapped between his thigh and stomach where he knelt, bent over on the mattress. It ached like hell from seeing Cas so debauched, a sheen of sweat already gathering on his forehead. Dean knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the sweat meant Cas was surrendering himself, letting his vessel feel every single touch. Dean’s heart hammered in his chest as he licked a circle around the tip of Cas’ cock, before sinking down slightly, so just the head lay heavy between his lips. He worked his tongue around it in slow, lazy strokes. The noises coming out of Cas were bordering on inhuman, and they certainly weren’t angelic. Except, Dean thought wryly, maybe they were. They were so filthy they were beautiful and so sinful they were pure. These were sounds of worship he could get used to hearing every night.

He sank down on Cas, flattening out his tongue and tilting his head back. He felt Cas’ dick slide into the back of his throat and he worked at it until his nose was brushing against Cas’ pubes. He let out a hum of satisfaction. Cas’ eyes were wide, his lips frozen in a silent cry. He swallowed once, letting the sides of his throat massage Cas’ cock. “Oh, Dean,” Cas murmured reverently. Dean bobbed up and down, sometimes taking Cas all the way into his throat, sometimes hollowing out his cheeks and swirling his tongue. Jesus. He never thought he’d need to be this good at giving head, but he wasn’t complaining. And neither was Cas. The angel’s hands were clenching tightly at the blankets, nearly ripping them apart. Cas bit his lip, and Dean could tell he was already working to stop himself from coming. Dean’s own dick was begging for friction, and he did all he could to stop from thrusting against his own thigh.

“D-dean,” Cas cried out above him. Cas’ hips rolled up, and Dean nearly choked on his dick. He looked Cas in the eye firmly, a reminder of what he’d said before. Cas groaned under the smolder of Dean’s gaze. Dean lapped at the head of Cas’ cock, sliding his tongue against the slit. He pulled away. Jesus, he just couldn’t wait any longer. Cas’ eyes weighed on him hungrily as he slicked his fingers with lube, thrusting two of them inside Cas without warning and crooking them until he cried out.

_Ridin' with the wind_

_When I'm sad, she comes to me_

Dean opened Cas up fast and dirty, rubbing one finger against his prostate while he shoved the others in. He hoped the pleasure would be too overwhelming for Cas to register the pain. Later, he realized that likely as not, Cas felt it all and didn’t care. Before long, he was pumping four fingers in and out of Cas, and Cas was breathing in long, ragged pants.

Dean yanked his fingers out, desperation over-ruling his previous desire to take things slow. He slicked himself up with lube, groaning at the sensation and struggling not to fuck into his own hand. Cas licked his lips. The guy thought he was getting off the hook. Dean smirked in the near darkness. He had no idea how many times Dean was going to take him to the edge before finally letting him come. He lined himself up and pushed inside Cas in one smooth movement.

It was like the world lit up, once he was inside Cas. The candles flickered gently, sending waves of light across Cas’ leanly muscled torso, coloring everything in a flood of rosy fire. The air around them crackled with angelic grace and the smell of artificial flowers hung heavy. Sweet Jesus, the feel of Cas pressing all around him, hot and tight and now Cas tasted like salt instead of rain – he could never get enough of this.

He thrust inside Cas, and he was fucking Cas harder than he ever had before, as hard as he could. Cas’ hips rolled with him, taking each thrust. The angel’s hands came up from the bedsheets and he clung onto Dean for dear life, crying out as Dean struck his prostate.

That was when Cas started to swear.

And once he started, Dean didn’t think he was inclined to stop any time soon. He panted out a litany of _fuck_ and _Dean_ and _so good, yes_. Dean grinned and used one hand to lift Cas’ leg up. Cas got the idea after a minute and wrapped both of his legs around Dean, moaning and falling back against the pillows at the new angle. Dean was pretty sure his memory foam mattress wouldn’t know _what_ to remember in the morning.

It was freeing, to be able to fuck into Cas as hard as he wanted, knowing Cas could take it. Knowing Cas loved it. But soon, too soon really, his breath was growing short and ragged and his dick was throbbing for release.

“Dean?” Cas asked, the one coherent thing he said since Dean started touching him. Cas could tell that Dean was getting close, and he wanted to know if he could come with the man.

Dean crushed his lips to Cas, and it was sweet and his head spun, before he said simply, “No.” Cas let out a desperate breath and nodded once. Dean kissed him again, sloppy and too hard. Then he was coming, hammering into Cas with everything he had, their bodies desperately fucking together as he shouted Cas’ name. He spurted his hot release on Cas’ velvety inner walls, and the second he did, he could feel Cas’ body jerking helplessly against him. For a moment, he thought Cas had started coming, but when he looked down, Cas’ dick was still hard and weeping precome between their stomachs. He stayed buried in Cas for a moment and wrapped him in his arms. He waited for the haze of his own orgasm to fade and held Cas as the angel twitched and gasped, hands trembling on Dean’s back. “Cas?” he asked. “You OK?”

“Very much so,” Cas said in a broken mutter. From the way Cas’ legs tremble around Dean’s waist, Dean can tell he’s using everything he has not to come, just from Dean’s motionless dick in his ass. Dean slowly slid out, Cas squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering. Dean whispered, “I love you.” He paused. “Turn over.”

_With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free_

_It's all right, she says, it's all right_

They untangled from each other and then Cas was kneeling in front of him, propped up on his elbows like a goddamn birthday cake. Dean let out a low whistle, before spreading Cas’ ass cheeks with his hands and plunging his tongue into Cas’ entrance. “Fuck,” Cas moaned. Dean chuckled darkly, the vibrations making Cas keen. This was damn near the dirtiest thing he’d ever done – no, this _was_ the dirtiest thing he’d ever done, because Cas tasted like roses and bitterness and Dean’s own cum. From one look at Cas’ face, pressed sideways against the pillow, he was in heaven.

Dean pulled back, just to drizzle more lube on Cas’ pink hole. Cas moaned as the cold, slick liquid dribbled over him. Dean thrust three fingers inside him, crooking them until he found Cas’ prostate again, and added his tongue between them. “Fuck, Dean!” Cas shouted. Dean grunted in response. Cas was unbelievably wet. Dean’s fingers made an obscene noise as they pumped into Cas, and the angel’s thighs were slick and shiny with lube. Dean didn’t care. He squirted even more out, this time wrapping his dripping hand around Cas’ cock and jacking him. Cas’ hips jerked back against him. Dean rubbed one finger into Cas’ prostate again and again, and Cas’ voice was so low Dean almost didn’t hear it. “I’m an angel of the Lord,” he said. “I do not beg.” Dean thrust his tongue inside Cas, tasting his inner walls. Cas closed his eyes. “Please. Fuck, Dean, please.” The way Cas ground out the word ‘please’, like it was part of a curse, shot blood directly to Dean’s dick. He gulped. Cas was _begging_ him. Really, truly, begging.

“Almost, angel.” Dean said, his world briefly stopping when Cas’ lips fell open and his eyes squeezed tighter shut, only barely holding on. “I want you let your wings out.”

Cas panted for a moment, letting Dean’s words catch up to him. Finally, he pushed himself up, arms shaking with the effort. His member was swollen and rock hard and looked so goddamn painful Dean almost felt bad. Almost. “I don’t know if I can fully control myself in that state,” he said. Dean smirked a little, and Cas’ eyes narrow. “Is this to prove a point, Dean Winchester?”

“No,” Dean answered honestly, sliding closer to Cas, positioning himself between the angel’s damp thighs. “This is to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

Cas gulped, and Dean could feel his thighs quiver at the promise. “So show me your wings, and touch yourself.” He had no idea where the command came from. Maybe it was because Cas had asked him to do the same thing in The Garden and Dean wanted to reverse the roles. Maybe he just wanted to see Cas vulnerable and desperate and giving himself pleasure. Cas’ lip trembled. The room began to glow brighter, the light from Cas’ eyes largely overwhelming the candles. Dean blinked and when he opened his eyes again, Cas’ wings were outstretched before him. Cas circled his long fingers around his own cock, and started to stroke himself, fast and rough. It took Dean a moment to remember, well, anything, and then he was wrapping his arms around Cas, reaching his fingers up and brushing them over the shining, gray feathers. Cas quivered, and he bucked up into his own hand. Dean swallowed, his own dick growing fully hard. He grew mesmerized by the sheen of Cas’ feathers, the way he trembled and swore when Dean touched them. Dean might not remember how intimate they were when Cas was rebuilding him, but he knew this was the closest they would get on Earth. When he looked down, Cas was fucking into his own hand, eyes wild and black hair sticking to his forehead, curling there, trapped by sweat. “Dean,” Cas moaned, and then, “Fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, I-” Dean quickly removed a hand from his work on Cas’ wings and shoved it between them, squeezing the base of Cas’ dick tightly to stop him from coming. Cas gave a broken cry, trying to thrust up into Dean’s hand, but Dean held him firmly. Cas’ face was all screwed up as he gave what sounded like a sob before leaning his forehead against Dean’s neck. “Point proven,” Dean couldn’t resist saying, softly.

Cas laughed a little, and Dean tentatively stroked his wing again. Cas whimpered into his shoulder. “ _Dean,_ ” he breathed harshly. As the light from Cas’ eyes faded a bit, Dean realized that not only had all the candles blown out, but that dim gray light was coming through the curtain. It was sometime in the early hours of the morning.

“How do you want me?” Dean asked finally. And he meant it. Anything Cas asked, he would do. Cas gazed up at him slowly, seemingly struggling to form a reply. “How do you want to come?” He rephrased the question, and Cas let out a sigh of relief, before abruptly shoving Dean back against the bed.

Cas clambered up on top of him, grinding his dick against Dean’s for a short second before he lifted himself up, Dean’s hand on his hip, and sank down on Dean’s cock. He did it so fast Dean barely had time to register the chorus of beautiful feelings fluttering through him. Dean could see that Cas’ thighs were quivering with the effort of lifting himself up, and so Dean put both hands on his hips to help his lover move. Cas moaned. “I want to come with you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed. He’d had a lifetime of jerking off in motel showers while his brother went out to get breakfast. He knew how to come quick just as well as he knew how to make it last. So in response, he just lifted Cas up before letting him slam down again. Cas’ head lolled with pleasure for a second, his wings still outstretched and shaking, and then the strangest thing happened.

Dean felt cold air meet his back and then Cas’ wings wrapped around him, holding him up so strongly and securely he almost felt like he was pinned down. Cas rocked his hips a little, finding a new angle and it took Dean a moment to realize they were fucking _floating._ “Yes, Dean,” Cas moaned, loud and unashamed. Dean did what he could to thrust into Cas, and Cas fucked himself down onto Dean’s thick cock. The fact that they were literally in midair, that Cas was holding him up with his grace, that they had both totally lost control –

He jacked Cas in long strokes, his fingers squeezing tightly, because fuck, he was ready to come.

One of Cas’ hands held him by the handprint, and they were flying together on a high of pleasure. Dean was so fucking lost in it he doesn’t notice as every piece of glass in the room shattered and the walls shook, but he saw Cas. Just Cas. Eyes fluttering open and shut, blue and then bright white. Cheeks flushed red, lips swollen. He could feel Cas’ heartbeat through his wings, somehow. Cas cried out his name, screamed it so loud Dean thought for a moment Cas might be using his real voice. The angel’s dick shot cum over Dean’s cheeks, probably in his hair too, maybe on the far wall. Cas rode him fast and hard through their climaxes, and when they were done, they fell the five feet back on to the bed.

Dean was glad the mattress was soft. Cas landed on top of him, his head firmly in the center of Dean’s chest, wings still around him. “Dean.” He said, exhausted. Dean was about to quip, _Good thing you still remember_ my _name._ Cas’ eyes slid shut, and he passed out draped over Dean.

_Take anything you want from me_

_Anything._

Dean slept for a while, pinned under Cas’ comforting weight and he woke up in the middle of the afternoon grinning like an idiot. Cas was still out cold. Dean gave a small sigh of satisfaction. That had been the night of his life. And, from gauging the destruction of the room, it had been for Cas too. It was a frickin’ miracle his guns hadn’t all gone off while they were having sex.

Dean rolled over gently, trying not to wake Cas as he deposited the sleeping angel on his back. As much as he wanted to be the first thing Cas saw when he woke up, they were both covered in sweat and cum and lube, and the room was… a disaster zone. Dean tip-toed away, careful not to cut his feet on broken glass. He came back with a broom, with which he promptly swept the shattered candles away. He stared at the window. It was gone. He could hear birds singing outside. “Fuck me,” he muttered, before remembering with a grin that that was exactly how his room had gotten this way. He picked up the bottle of lube off the floor, shaking his head at the scent, before pausing.

An hour later, after doing damage control in the rest of the bunker (most of it, thankfully, seemed limited to his room), he came back into the room. Cas’ eyes were firmly shut and Dean let out a small snick of laughter.

Cas woke up to Dean Winchester rubbing a hot, damp washcloth over his torso while holding a rose between his teeth.

A short time later, Dean was laughing his face off, rose petals littering he and Cas’ chests. He might have been exasperated that his life was turning into a rom-com, but roses carried a bittersweet feeling for him. Although he now associated them, however reluctantly, with the best night of his life, he could also think of Cas, insane, alone, sitting in the Berkeley Rose Gardens and wishing _something_ would stay, forever. And so when Cas snaps his fingers and his dumb Polaroid camera is in his hands, and he’s taking a photo of Dean, his eyes crinkled up with laughter, rose petals littering his bare chest, he doesn’t even protest. But when Cas has just closed his eyes again, not sleeping (Dean guessed that only happened when he’d been fucked into oblivion), but resting, Dean took a messy photo of Cas’ closed eyes and halfway smile. Just to get him back.

_Fly on, little wing._

Dean supposed it was them getting even when he got into his car the next morning for a pie-run and taped to his steering wheel is a letter; the only part of which he could remember was that, included somewhere inside, was a comparison of Dean to a rose.

Son of a bitch.


	32. Reasons For Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reasons for Waiting, by Jethro Tull  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iybAyDFrhhI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say that I read How A Righteous Man Raises A Rose after writing the chapter with the rose garden, and I officially apologize to anyone that I traumatized by making accidental references. Also, it's an amazing fic (I cried. A lot), and if you haven't already read it, you should. In case you need more tears. Here, have some fluff.

Two days later, Dean padded into the kitchen to an unexpected sight. Cas was holding up their one and only skillet, frowning in consternation at the pancake within. Sam was humming along to Jethro Tull, where the stereo was playing his mixtape for Cas.

“Uh…” For a minute, Dean was convinced that he’d woken up in some Djinn-induced illusion of the (lethal) warm and fuzzies. Then he noticed that Sam’s shirt had a giant blood stain on the front, and that his arm was bandaged. That was enough to convince him that this was real life. “Eileen stabbed you?” Dean asked, grabbing a mug of ready made coffee from the counter and sitting down. “And you’re…” he trailed off, staring at Cas. “You’re making pancakes. What did I miss?”

Sam had that shit-eating grin again. “Cas was gonna make you breakfast in bed.”

That explained the burnt blueberry smell.

“Sam said it was traditional,” Cas said, fiddling with the knobs on the stove.

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Really, Sam?”

“Yup.” Sam’s eyes looked kind of misty now, Dean noted with an eye-roll. “And for the record, Eileen didn’t stab me. The blood’s not mine. Turns out the reason she didn’t call me was because she was being held as a sacrificial offering for some Valentine’s Day black magic-fest.”

“So you busted in and saved her? Bet that you got you laid,” Dean remarked casually.

Sam paused. “More like by the time I got there she’d broken out and ganked all the witches. But I’m officially allowed to call her now.”

Dean snorted. “Cas, you need some help over there?”

“Would it be in poor taste to use my grace to flip the pancakes?” Cas asked hopefully.

“Yes, yes it would.”

“What about a spatula?”

Dean stood and, glaring pre-emptively at Sam, made his way over to Cas. “Here.” He wrapped his arms around Cas, joining them at both hands so he could guide Cas’ arms. Like he’d do if he was teaching the guy how to shoot a rifle. “Like so. You hold it steady and then, just real quick-” He flipped the pancake up in the air and maneuvered the skillet to catch it. “See? Easy.”

“I understand now!” Cas’ eyes lit up, and the corner of his mouth turned up affectionately as he gazed back at Dean.

_What a sight for my eyes_

_To see you in sleep_

_Could’ve startled the sunrise_

_Hearing you weep?_

Sam chose that moment to cease his humming and cough a little too delicately. “Your asthma kicking up again?” Dean sneered, removing himself forcibly from proximity with Cas and returning to his mug of coffee.

“Yeah. It’s triggered by horridly romantic breakfasts.”

“Well, then you kinda shot yourself in the foot, then, didn’t you?” Dean took a moment to watch Cas as he clumsily flipped the next pancake. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this all being Sam’s idea, or that his ‘horridly romantic’ mixtape was playing right now. Cas had no sense of what was normal or cheesy, which it made it almost too easy to be honest with him. Sam was an entirely different matter. Still, he was glad to have his brother back, and Sam was always wanting Dean to be embarrassingly open about his feelings, so fuck that line of thought. Besides, Sam liked Jethro Tull. Maybe they could actually have breakfast together, like a regular family.

Cas slid the first pancake onto his plate, maple syrup and whipped cream appearing on the table with a snap of his fingers. Dean caught his eye for a second too long while he said, “Thanks, Cas,” and it came out throaty and altogether too sincere.

The pancakes were burnt, and Cas seemed to have put more blueberries than flour into the batter, but they were _good._ First because it was difficult to fuck up pancakes that bad, and second because Cas had made them. Because since that first day in the woods, Dean had tried to show Cas what he knew about human, however badly, and now Cas was making goddamn pancakes and he was suddenly, irresistibly proud of them. Cas, for learning that he could feel things he wasn’t ever programmed to, Sam, for finding a kickass girl and seeming actually happy for once, and himself… well, mostly for just not fucking it all up. But that was enough. Dean looked up, aware of Cas’ gaze resting upon him. Cas smiled, as if Dean grinning and licking maple syrup off his lips was the most endearing thing ever. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of a camera flash went off before he could. Two snaps in short succession. He looked around, bewildered, only to discover that Sam had turned Cas’ Polaroid on both of them in short succession. “What?” Sam said in response to Dean’s what-the-fuck glance. “Someone had to.”

As the images printed out and Sam laid them on the table to let the ink dry, Dean couldn’t help thinking that the last person to look at him quite as tenderly as Cas was in the photo had been his Mom. He gulped, wondering if that was maybe why Sam took it. He snaked his hand across the table and picked it up, staring at it for a second before slipping it into his shirt pocket. This felt good. This felt like after everything that’d been taken away from them, after Yellow Eyes and every piece of hellspawn, they were building up again. In small ways, like these stupid polaroids and the fact that even though Sam looked like a lovesick puppy that got chomped on, he looked happy, too. Sam cleared his throat from across the table. “Whatever,” Dean muttered, and went back to eating pancakes.

_You're not seen, you're not heard_

_But I stand by my word_

_Came a thousand miles_

_Just to catch you while you're smiling_

Cas sat down with them after he was done cooking, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. Of course, this was Cas, so really he was just wearing a slight smirk, but still. Dean could tell. Dean said into the silence, “So, no more playing hide-n-seek with Eileen then?” All right, maybe his gift of the wedding ring had been a little preemptive. But then, he supposed, it’d been more about the statement than any real expectation.

Sam laughed a little at that. “No. And it wasn’t ever hide-n-seek, really.”

“Sure.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Who’re you to talk, anyway?”

Before Dean could formulate a witty comeback to that one, Cas asked, “Hide-n-seek? Is that a customary part of courtship?”

Dean laughed. “No, Cas, it’s a kid’s game.”

“Oh.” Cas looked almost crestfallen, like he’d been anticipating engaging in some new courtship ritual with Dean.

“Man, I don’t think I even know how to play,” Dean said then, his mind fumbling through memories. There were only so many places you could hide in a tiny motel room, he guessed. Sometimes Sam would hide from him, under the bed or behind the shower curtain, but it was usually more of a protest to something and less of a game.

“I learned at Stanford,” Sam said with a chuckle. “We were drunk, and Jess wanted to play, but I didn’t know how.” His smile faded into something sadder, but not altogether unpleasant, at the mention of Jess.

“Just another box unticked for growing up a hunter I guess,” Dean said, standing and fetching a beer from the fridge. “You want one?” he asked.

“It’s barely 10, Dean,” Sam said in unison with Cas’ response of, “If you don’t mind.”

“Really, Cas?” Sam asked, barely able to contain his curiosity that Castiel, angel of the lord, now drank beer.

“I’m a bad influence,” Dean said proudly, tossing Cas his beer. Cas opened it with his hand and absentmindedly sipped some.

Sam sighed. Cas stared fondly down at his beer for a moment, contemplating it with greater depth than Dean thought it merited. “How come you want a beer, anyway? You can’t taste it, and it’s nowhere near enough to get you drunk.” He made a mental note to get Cas properly drunk again sometime.

“I enjoy sharing experiences with you,” Cas answered, much too quickly. Sam’s coffee dribbled down his lip before he swiftly wiped it off, staring at the two of them.

“Oh.” Dean said finally.

There was a moment of silence, Sam struggling not to smile and Cas turning his earnest contemplation on Dean. It was Cas that eventually spoke. “Why don’t we play?”

_What a day for laughter_

_And walking at night_

_Me following after_

_Your hand holding tight_

When Sam and Dean only stared at Cas, clearly lost, he continued. “Hide-n-seek. You said you didn’t play it as children. I clearly don’t know how to play. Why don’t we?”

Dean huffed a laugh which thoroughly rang of, _This is the idiot I love._ “It’s a kid’s game,” he said again, like that explained everything.

“So?” And Cas’ eyebrow was raising; just the one. “You would’ve enjoyed it as a child, and you still could now.” Dean bit his lip, looking away and tipping his beer back for another swallow.

“This is stupid,” Dean said, but from just those words, they both knew he’d agreed.

Sam was gently smiling right up until he said loudly, “Not it!”

Dean looked at him, lost, before Cas echoed hopefully, “Not it?”

“…not it?” Dean asked.

“You said it last, it doesn’t count.” This game sounded a lot more complicated than the name let on. “All right,” Sam said, “You go over there and close your eyes. Count to 100 and then shout, ‘I’m coming, ready or not.’” Dean completely failed to restrain his laugh at the innuendo. Sam sighed. “Then you come and find me and Cas. If you give up, you shout Ollyollyoxenfree.” Was it just him, or was Sam actually _bouncing_ a little on his heels? His brother might tower over him, but just then, he looked like a little kid.

“Who the hell made _that_ up?” Dean asked, grumbling and going to stand in the corner with his hands over his eyes. “It’s not even a word.”

“You’re supposed to count,” Cas said.

“Fine, fine. One, two, hey, no using your-” a flap of wings resounds through the kitchen. “Angel mojo.” He finished lamely. “Three, four…”

_And the memory stays clear_

_With the song that you hear_

_If I can but make the words awake_

_The feeling_

When Dean opened his eyes, the kitchen was completely empty. He padded out into the corridor, and only then realized just how hard this was going to be. The Bunker was giant. He also tried to tell himself that he was just playing this stupid game for Cas’ sake, and not because it reminded him of happier things he hadn’t had. _Might as well have ‘em now, though._ He thought. Cas had been right. He smiled to himself as he walked along the halls, checking all the rooms on the left side of the corridor first. He’d get the ones on the right side on the way back.

He found Sam hunkered down in the bath tub behind the shower curtain. He looked ridiculous – six and a half feet of sasquatch, crammed into the bottom of a bathtub, trying to be inconspicuous. “Did you think there was even a _slight_ chance that might work?” Dean asked, exasperated.

“I thought you wouldn’t look,” Sam admitted somewhat bashfully.

“Yeah, well, I know you. Come on, get up and help me look for Cas. Unless you’re stuck.” Sam pulled himself free of the bath tub with minimal struggle and stood.

“Am I even allowed to help you look?” Sam asked, seeming dubious.

“Hell if I know. You take the other wing. Otherwise it’ll take all day, with him zapping from place to place.” Dean did an exaggerated eye roll, but he was remembering when Cas had used his mojo to cheat horribly in their snowball fight, and exactly where that had led.

“Sure.” Sam said.

Then, “You really love him.”

Dean looked up, meeting his brother in the eyes. He wasn’t so much surprised at the statement, it was more of a, _Oh. So we’re going to make it verbal now._ And he would’ve been freaking out, if Sam had said this months ago, before Dean had said it to Cas himself. “I… uh, yeah.” And that was that. Perhaps not the most articulate expression of emotion, but it would do. Sam nodded, grinned, tripped over the bath tub on the way out, and went to search the other half of the bunker.

 

Dean was at the second to last door on the left. He poked his head in, eying the familiar place. This was where he’d waited for Cas on Valentine’s Day, and where Cas had secreted himself away long before that. He liked the idea that Cas might be waiting for him in here. _Hiding from,_ he reminded himself with a half smile.

There wasn’t really anywhere to hide, though, that was the problem. There were a few empty shelves, some boxes, the tiny hidden compartments in the walls, their cassette desk, and – oh. Their cassette desk. Which was turned on, and playing the Jethro Tull song from this morning, and that meant Cas had taken the mixtape out of the kitchen stereo and put it in this one. “Gotcha,” he breathed. It was like Cas had some kind of magic, keeping the cassette with him and playing whenever possible. Dean supposed it was highly probably that Cas _was_ using magic, for just that purpose. Although in this case, it was a dead give-away. “Cas, damnit, are you going invisible girl on me?”

He stepped forward, standing in the pool of light by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of Cas’ trench coat. He spun around, grabbing at the air and catching the fabric between two fingers.

To his surprise, he is left utterly alone, with a trench coat hanging from one hand, and Cas’ low laugh in his ears.

_What a reason for waiting_

_And dreaming of dreams_

He heard Cas’ footsteps, and then, with a hunter’s certainty, he knew his quarry was running. He grinned and gave chase, feet thudding and skidding on the bunker floor as he raced along the hallway. The trench coat was still firmly gripped in his hand, streaming behind him as he flat out ran. His chest heaved and his cheeks grew hot. Damnit, he was gonna find that angel. With every room that he passed, a bar of sunlight from the window slid across him before he was moving on.

He made it to the landing, and then turned all around, searching for any signs of Cas. It was only when he’d done a full 360 and was standing staring at the hallway he’d come from that he saw the cocky bastard appear at the very end of it. Cas was leaning leisurely against the doorframe of the cassette room, eyes roving over Dean even from a distance.

Dean started running the second he saw Cas. Cas looked almost surprised, and then Dean was laughing, laughing as his breaths came quick but steady, as sunlight zipped over his face and he got closer to Castiel.

When he was stretching his arms out, about to bear-tackle Cas to the floor and hold him down, because goddamnit he _liked_ this game, Cas disappeared. Fucking wings. “Cas, damnit, you’re not meant to run!” Dean shouted, skidding to a halt and nearly falling over.

Cas reappeared suddenly, and Dean reached out for him, grabbing both of his hands tightly. Just so he couldn’t run away. “My apologies,” Cas said breathlessly. It dimly occurred to Dean that Cas genuinely hadn’t known you weren’t meant to run, and certainly not _fly_ away when you’d already been spotted, but he just growled and leaned in. Pressed himself tight to Cas and kissed him, catching his breath in between the sweet touches of their lips. “Found you,” he said.

“Of course.” Cas answered easily. And they kissed. And kissed again. Until that was, the distant shout of _“Ollyollyoxenfree!”_ roused them. And after that, one more kiss.

_So here's hoping you’ve faith_

_In impossible schemes_

_That are born in the sigh of the wind blowing by_

_While the dimming light brings the end to a night of loving_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I overdo it on the fluff?


	33. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank You, By Led Zeppelin  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1z4vkPWkLQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew I wanted to do another Led Zeppelin chapter, but it was a real toss-up between a bunch of songs; this one, All of My Love, Out on the Tiles, Fool In The Rain, Tangerine and Down by the Seaside, which was recommended by Castiel's_Beeswax (thank you!). I chose to do this one because in my mind, it's the purest love song out of all of them.

They were lying in bed one morning, perfectly silent. Cas was sprawled across Dean’s chest, Dean’s hand resting at the nape of his neck, absentmindedly stroking the black hairs there.

“Do you miss it?” Dean asked. He hadn’t really meant to say it aloud, it was just an accidental verbal continuation of his thoughts.

“What?” Cas asked, running his fingers over Dean’s chest and staring, as if entranced by the invisible patterns he made there.

“You said when you were… remaking me… my soul, that we were close – in a spiritual sense, or something.” Dean swallowed, not sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question. “Do you miss that?” Knowing what he did now, it made a lot more sense out of how Cas had acted before he came to the bunker – standing too close, always seeming to imply something a shade beyond friendship between them, watching Dean when he thought no one was looking.

Cas was silent for a moment. “Dean… I’m not sure anything like that has ever happened before, or since. The pure connection of a human soul and angelic grace, with no earthly constraints…” Dean bit his lip. Earthly constraints? Like… bodies? “That’s such an incredibly rare occurrence. Possession isn’t the same, usually one consciousness is shoved to the side to make room for the dominant one. I never thought I’d have occasion for such a thing again, so I didn’t miss it, if you see what I mean,” Cas trailed off.

“But do you?” He desperately didn’t want Cas to say yes. But maybe the truth of it was that for an angel, a wavelength of celestial intent, nothing felt quite as intimate as the sort of thing Cas had described. It only stood to reason, that physical beings like humans would seek physical intimacy, but maybe for angels it was totally different. He tried to remind himself that Cas wasn’t exactly a regular angel.

“I…” He felt the vibration of Cas’ low voice travel through his chest. “I’ve become rather enchanted by terrestrial intimacy, I must admit.”

“Terrestrial intimacy?” Dean asked, one eyebrow climbing higher.

“Sex,” Cas said. _Oh._ “To me, physical forms aren’t necessarily impediments to intimacy. It’s only a different way of experiencing the same thing.” He admitted in a low rumble, “It’s a way I’ve grown rather enchanted by.”

Dean let out a sigh. Cas had answered his hidden question, that nagging worry that maybe Cas would prefer them to be floating together in some extraterrestrial void, as opposed to… well.

“Although I must admit, it was a beautiful experience.” Cas planted a kiss in the hollow of Dean’s chest.

Cas sounded wistful. Dean could tell he was willing to write this off as a one time deal, wonderful but not something he _needed_ to repeat. And something inside of Dean ached, because he didn’t even remember it. Jesus. He blurted out, “We could do it again.”

Cas slowly propped himself up one elbow and turned his blue eyes on Dean. He seemed to be contemplating the idea deeply, expressions warring for dominance on his face. Dean thought it must be pretty apparent to Cas, who knew him better than anything, that the intimacy Cas had previously described was now something he _wanted._ Now that he’d thought about it, he wanted to experience it, at least _remember_ it, so badly. And Cas could always tell when he wanted something. “That would be dangerous. I’m not sure how we could…” Cas stopped. “There might be a way, but I’m far from sure. It could end up killing one or both of us, Dean.” Cas looked away.

“Doesn’t sound like a half bad way to die,” Dean said quietly.

A crease appeared on Cas’ brow. “Dean…” Silence. “There is no justification for endangering your life, not to me.”

Dean closed his eyes. So that was that. And Cas was completely right, totally and utterly, and he goddamn knew what a dick he was being when he said, “I don’t remember.” With an implied, _it’s easy for you to say._

Cas stared at the white wall to Dean’s left, as if answers might appear written on it. He looked lost, and Dean reached up, found his hand and squeezed it. Dean didn’t want to make Cas unhappy. Just when he was on the verge of dropping it, Cas said, “If we’re going to do this, I think it should be somewhere special.” Dean’s eyes went wide with surprise, but he uttered a quick nod.

 _If the sun refused to shine_  
_I would still be loving you_  
_When mountains crumble to the sea_  
_There will still be you and me_

_Kind woman, I give you my all  
Kind woman, nothing more_

The fifth song on the mix-tape was Led Zeppelin. Of course. Dean stood in The Greenhouse, and his breath had been swept away.

He could swear the plants had changed  since the last time. Then again, that wasn’t exactly surprising, given that it was a magical greenhouse. Cas had somehow hijacked the _enchanted radio_ to play his mixtape, and Dean had to be pretty damn impressed with that.

Cherry trees grew everywhere, with smaller plants underneath them and vines climbing along the roof. All the cherry trees were blooming at once, littering the floor with a carpet of white petals.

But what took his breath away was Cas standing underneath a tree, reaching up with one hand and cupping a cluster of blossoms between his long fingers, staring up at them in pure wonder. It was an expression Dean had seen Cas wear on a few occasions before. It was so goddamn innocent it never ceased to make Dean’s heart stumble and stutter in his chest.

When Cas turned to Dean, smiling over his shoulder, blue eyes sparkling, everything stopped. What remaining breath he had was punched out of him and his heart took a good moment to remember it had to keep beating. “Come here,” Cas murmured, holding out a hand. Dean went without question.  
  
Little drops of rain whisper of the pain  
Tears of loves lost in the days gone by  
My love is strong, here there is no wrong  
Together we shall go until we die, oh my my

_An inspiration is what you are to me  
Inspiration, look, see_

They stood toe to toe, and Cas wrapped one arm around Dean, their hands clasped on the other side. “Listen to me. I’m going to send part of my grace into you. You have to let me in. It won’t be like I’m possessing you, because the majority of my consciousness will still be in this body. Your body and the space between us will be a conduit for our essences.” Dean swallowed, and nodded. He was trembling, but knew it wasn’t from fear. “If it gets too much, if at any point it feels wrong or dangerous, pull back immediately, you understand?” Cas stroked his thumb along Dean’s hand, and Dean briefly wondered why Cas had agreed to do this. It was pretty obvious that he wanted to, but what had made him change his mind? Dean pushed the thought of his mind, and sent a single, silent, _Yes_ in response.

Cas took a moment to steady himself, and then he leaned ever closer to Dean. When they were mere centimeters apart, Dean parted his lips, thinking Cas was about to kiss him. The side of Cas’ mouth quirked up into a smile, but before he could ask why, Cas pressed their lips gently together. They were barely touching, just the slightest graze of flesh on flesh, and then Dean saw something glowing bright white. Cas’ breath was warm, but something cold and shining was whispering its way between his open lips, making them tingle with electricity.

 _His grace,_ Dean realized.

For a moment, it felt like something strange and utterly out of place. His head was spinning, trying to understand the foreign feeling of Cas’ grace melting into his body. But then, it was almost as if the heat of his body warmed it up, and he could recognize _Cas_ in the sparkle of sensations all through him. It stopped feeling like being tentatively invaded by some alien force, and he could sense Cas’ presence, everywhere around him, inside him. It still felt new and strange, but the familiar things were there too, like Cas’ smell of summer rainstorms, dark blue eyes and even some sense of _Hello, Dean._ These things weren’t like they were normally, not physical exactly. It was like a sixth sense had opened up, letting him feel the essence of all these familiar things in a totally new way. As he allowed himself some time to explore the feeling, he realized other things were there, too. The voice that could shatter glass, wings stretching out to some incomprehensible size, much bigger than he’d ever seen, and something burning pure white.

It was all of Cas. Everything he’d been able to see before, everything he’d never see again.

And it felt so strange, to experience it like this, totally removed from all his senses but just as _true_ as all the things he had felt before. It was glorious. _Castiel,_ he breathed out.

 _And so today my world, it smiles_  
_Your hand in mine, we walk the miles_  
_Thanks to you it will be done_  
_For you to me are the only one_

That was when it clicked.

The second he prayed for Cas, sought him out in this spinning mess of their souls, it changed. What had before been far removed from his physical senses snapped back into place. The same misty, abstract, shining comprehension of their consciousness’ mixing together remained, but all his physical senses returned.

Sight. Cas’ blue eyes, shining with wonder even though his brow was furrowed with concentration, his pink lips hanging parted. White, white cherry flowers all around them. Every petal, jumping out into perfect definition.  
Taste. Cas’ lips tasted undefinable, something barely there but intoxicating.  
Smell. The light smell of flowers danced over the damp, heady aroma of earth and yes, he could smell rain like Cas had just stepped in out of a downpour.  
Hearing. The sounds of them breathing, just slightly out of time. But also his heart thumping along, and was that… Cas’ heart. Perfectly in time with his. Blood rushing through their veins in sync. Dean’s eyes widened at the realization.  
Touch. Their hands were joined, the exquisite pressure of Cas’ fingers against his. Their chests were pressed together, and he could feel Cas’ breath on the side of his cheek. The air hung damp around them, but crackled with something beyond electricity. And Cas’ lips against his… soft and begging to be parted, not nearly close enough to his.  
When he moved just that bit closer to Cas, angled his chin up and pressed them together in a proper kiss, it crashed over him.

_Everything. Everything. Oh._

Cas’ grace burned inside of him, exploring all his furthest corners, and it was unlike anything he’d ever known. He could feel Cas all around him, in the space between them, could feel everything that was _them_ mixing together and spinning when their bodies stayed so nearly still. He couldn’t hear Cas’ thoughts, but he could feel Cas’ wonder, his pleasure at this, all throughout him. And it _was_ too much, it really was. It was more than any human had been designed to feel, almost more than he could bear.

It was also breath-taking, and he never wanted it to stop.

Instead of pulling back, he pushed forward, almost, meeting the waves of Cas’ presence with his own. It was like Cas had been touching him while he lay still, and just now, he was returning the touches in kind.

 _Dean,_ Cas gasped.

The sound pulsed through him, travelling across the space between on the golden threads of consciousness. Cas had become all-encompassing, yet just as Dean sunk further into that sense of his presence, he could feel Cas doing the same. His skin hummed with the contact occurring beneath it, and he could hear his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was floating on waves of feeling, surging forward into Cas and receding in turn. It was like a world-consuming, metaphysical kiss.

_Happiness, no more be sad  
Happiness, I’m glad_

Cas’ tongue licked steadily into Dean’s mouth. Waves of pleasure reverberated through both of them as Dean moaned; right then, nothing had ever felt better than the slow, hot, wet glide of Cas’ tongue over his. His hand tightened on Cas’, grounding himself so he didn’t lose himself completely. The flower petals behind them, all around them, they erupted into Dean’s vision like fireworks, like he’d never seen them properly before. Every detail was visible, every shadow and speckle.

And he didn’t know how to describe it, other than that the same feeling he got when Cas smiled at him, really smiled from the depths of his heart, had completely engulfed him. They were dancing through shared wonder, every inch of his body vibrating with it.

When he answered Cas’ kiss with a barely there thrust of his hips, he didn’t expect the pleasure spiking through them to completely floor him. He could feel what Cas could feel as well as the sensations from his own body, could _feel_ him smiling and the rush of blood as Cas’ cock hardened in response, could feel it all inside him. Cas rocked back against him, and just like that they were _both_ lost on it, rocks skipping along the seas of ecstasy.

Dean looked down and saw his skin _glowing_ , glowing white where their hands touched. And it was like the bubble they were in, the bubble containing them inexorably joined together, started to expand. Wing shadows flashed black across Dean’s vision, stretching, stretching. And it was almost as though he could now feel the flowers as they shook gently, stirred by the sudden whisper of wind, as though he might as well be one of the drops of water hanging from the petals, in comparison to what Cas was. The air around them was shining, and Dean could feel Cas’ senses expanding, could feel _more_ of him, as if Cas was pouring more of his grace into Dean. He drank it in eagerly, happy to be a mere droplet of water in the face of this absolute, holy glory.

As his head started to spin, as he sank to his knees when his legs were unable to hold him, as he thought there was every chance he could die like this, absorbed in the ecstasy of the moment –

Cas. He stared up at Cas, and remembered the words that held him steady. _I love you._

The world went bright white, and Dean was soaring, soaring, like he was the one with wings. It was beautiful, and he cried out in rapture.

 _If the sun refused to shine_  
_I would still be loving you_  
_Mountains crumble to the sea_  
_There will still be you and me_

When he came to, he was swaying where he knelt on the dirt, looking up at Cas. The glow was fading from the room, and the giant wing shadows which had stretched beyond the walls of the greenhouse were disappearing. The outer signs of Cas’ celestial being were dimming, and Cas was coming back to him. Cas stared back at him, hair completely disheveled, lips parted and eyes returning from shining blue to their normal ocean depths. And it wasn’t surprising to feel that there was a hot, wet spot in his jeans where he’d come in the heat of the moment, nor was it surprising to see that Cas was in a similar predicament. He swallowed, ears still ringing. When it was over, he’d expected to feel like he was hollow, missing the enhancement of his senses and the overwhelming sense of Cas inside him, all around him. Instead, he felt like he was experiencing the aftershocks of an emotional orgasm.

Cas collapsed to his knees in front of Dean, and before Dean knew what was happening, Cas’ hands were everywhere, skimming over him, holding him. “Dean,” Cas growled. “Are you all right? Dean.” He looked down. “I couldn’t control it, not towards the end. I think I started to appear in some aspect of my true form, I started pouring more of myself into you… Dean, are you all right?”

So he hadn’t been imaging it. Dean said shakily, “I’m awesome.”

Cas frowned for a second, and then his face split into a smile. He cupped both sides of Dean’s face and kissed him long and hard. Dean panted when they split apart. “That was… that was…” he floundered for words. “Damnit, Cas,” he finally breathed out.

“I know,” Cas murmured.

After Dean made a feeble attempt to stand and failed, they crawled to the nearest cherry tree. Cas leaned back against the trunk, and Dean collapsed against him, lying between his legs and letting his head rest against Cas’ chest. The white petals around them were a blur as Dean’s eyes half-closed. One of Cas’ hands rested firmly around Dean’s waist, while the other worked its way all across him, as if Cas was assuring himself that Dean was indeed all right.

“I think,” Dean said in a hoarse voice, “You forgot something.”

Cas’ hand stilled. “What do you mean?”

“It still feels like…” he paused, not wanting to worry Cas. “It feels like part of your grace is still inside me.” He’d realized a few moments ago, slumped against Cas and listening to his heartbeat, that the reason he didn’t feel some tremendous sense of loss was because some spark of Cas’ grace was still firmly lodged in his chest, smoldering gently.

Cas laid a hand to his chest and frowned in concentration. After a moment, he shook his head. “You couldn’t feel that before?” He sounded almost… put out.

“I – what?”

“That’s been there since I rescued you from hell,” Cas said quietly. “When I branded your arm, I also branded your soul – with part of my grace. It’s a wonder you couldn’t feel it before, but maybe because you didn’t remember…”

Dean blinked. “I…” He’d always felt _something_ around Cas, something beyond attraction or even love. While he was sure the spark of grace wasn’t the sole reason for what he felt like Cas, it was something extra, something different on top. Something foreign and wonderful. Now he knew why it was there. “I guess I never knew what it was.” His throat closed up with emotion, and he said, “Cas…”

Cas kissed the top of his forehead to silence him, and Dean melted into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did this idea justice!  
> Also, it will be explained later why Cas changed his mind, never fear.


	34. Making Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making Love, by Rainbow  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fh2qtEBQijM  
> This was suggested a while back by Minilin on FF.net. Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. I have plotted out my ideas and chapters and... don't shoot... according to my calculations, there are about seven chapters remaining, including this one. As much as it will pain me to leave this fic and you, it's lovely readers, I promise you they are a good seven chapters in which things will be wrapped up, resolved and started, angst and fluff with a genuine romantic bow on top. I'm excited, I hope you like it!

It was about a week later, and Dean realized dimly while Cas was throwing a lighter down on a pile of gasoline-soaked bones, a furrow appearing on his brow while he watched the fire spread, that spring was in full swing. And he’d barely even noticed.

The shrieks of the vengeful spirit vanished. They were left in a decaying house, moss on the walls, blood dripping from Dean’s hand to paint the floors, alone and silent. A shredded curtain fluttered, driven by a breeze blowing through the broken window. Sam was downstairs, helping the confused victim – an atheist who, while dealing with a mild concussion, was having trouble coming to terms with the Supernatural. “Cas?” Dean asked. The flames had died down, but Cas was still staring intently at the blackened bones. He took a few steps closer, not cautiously exactly, but slowly. While they’d moved a long way from when Cas had first arrived at the bunker, existential crisis in tow, Dean knew there was still some damage there. Scar tissue, as it were.

Finally, Cas looked up at him. To Dean’s relief, his expression wasn’t blank, but open. “I believe I’ve had an epiphany,” Cas said, smiling with his eyes. He took Dean’s hand, and Dean felt the familiar tingle of power go through his flesh, healing the deep cut on his upper arm and the gash on his forehead.

Dean waited, green eyes reading a silent, _I’m listening._

“Purpose,” Cas said, face lighting up as he uttered the single word. “I’ve found it.”

Dean let a single, light laugh fall from his lips. After all of Cas’ millennia on earth, what gave him a sense of purpose was a charred skeleton? Cas smiled slightly at Dean’s laugh, and continued.  “I was wrong to seek it from only one source – to try and adopt the garrison’s ideas, to find my own, singular, misguided mission, even to try and derive happiness solely from human means.” Dean tried not to wince. Seemingly sensing that, Cas said, “I mean to say that it was a marriage of your ways and heaven’s that prompted me to find my own. And it’s not simple, like I thought it would be, it’s a swirl of fighting for what’s right, free will, determination, hedonism, embracing what I am, expanding…” he cocked his head to one side and said fondly, finally, “Love.”

Cas’ list of things which gave him happiness reminded Dean a lot of the newspaper-clipping boards they use to make cases. A dozen articles or so which are all related by some thread, yet each different and strange, drawn to a collision by a single invisible thread. Dean stood there for a moment, watching Cas, drinking in the tiny lopsided smile that’s playing across his lover’s lips.

“I still feel… shaky, confused,” Cas confessed. “But it’s different.”

“That’s life,” Dean said, not even making an effort to disguise the grin that was creeping across his face. He’d always wanted Cas to be happy, but the concern had been preying more on his mind ever since that first day in the woods. And of course it hadn’t been all him, but the idea that he’d helped Cas – how did he put it? – expand, that kindled something in Dean’s chest. “Come on. What say we celebrate?”

Cas’ eyes lit up, and he followed Dean down the stairs. Sam was kneeling by the latest attempted victim, saying, “Yes, the Devil is real, but you don’t have to worry about him. Yes, really.”

“Come on,” Dean said. “I’ll drop you off at the hospital for those scratches,” he gestured to the lacerations all up and down the man’s arms. “Sammy, ride in the back with him,” he instructed. He didn’t want to have to bear the brunt of all the man’s bewildered questions. He slid into the Impala, and Cas hopped easily into the passenger seat behind him, looking a little bit smug. Dean rolled his eyes, and fast-forwarded blindly on the cassette tape in the stereo. He was going to find the next song on his mixtape – not only because it contained a confession, but also because it was a promise of what they were going to do as soon as they were alone. And it was just the right kind of music Sam had learned to tune out over the years, so he wouldn’t be listening too closely. Perfect. Dean gunned the engine, and drove smoothly forward onto the road.

_I was always on the wilder side_

_Chasin’ love away_

_Love was something for romantic fools_

_Just a game to play_

_How can I deny my heart?_

_When my love is blind!_

_I got no choice, I’'ve gone too far_

_I lose my mind when we’re makin’ love_

_When we’re making love_

They dropped the confused, slightly angry atheist off at the hospital, and just as they were about to pull out onto the highway, Sam said, “Wait. Drop me off at the bus station.”

“What?” Dean asked, swerving into an abrupt and illegal U-turn.

“Um, yeah. Eileen’s up in Wisconsin. I’m gonna catch a Greyhound.” Sam said.

“She need your help on a hunt or something?” Dean asked, pulling alongside the bus station.

“Or something,” Sam said, the faintest trace of a smirk making its way across his face.

“All right, Sammy! Finally losing your virginity, good on you.” Dean grinned. While Sam’s departure was unexpected, he was equally glad that he and Cas would get to have some alone time.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You two have fun.” There was an unfair bit of emphasis on the word _fun_ , Dean thought. Not that the kid was wrong. “See you in about five days,” Sam said, definitely smirking now, grabbed his gun, and slammed the door behind him.

It was maybe a two hour drive back to the bunker. After about an hour of companionable silence, Cas asked, “Why is it that humans are unhappy?”

Dean’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Well, shit, Cas. If I knew the answer to that, we wouldn’t live off of credit card scams and whiskey.”

“You mean to say no one knows?” Cas asked, clearly perturbed.

“Uh,” Dean said. “I don’t know. Maybe?” Normally he tried to answer Cas’ questions as best as he could, but he was totally out of his depth with this one. He sighed, and they were quiet for a moment. “I think sometimes,” he said haltingly, “It comes from trying to be something you’re not.”

Cas thought about it, and nodded slightly.

“But I mean…” Dean ran his free hand over his chin. “There doesn’t always have to be a reason, y’know? It can just be…” he scrunched up his face. “Random, I guess.”

While that seems like a damn shitty explanation to him, Cas said, “Well, I suppose there are so many random outbreaks of happiness, spikes of creativity and pleasure in the human race, that perhaps it’s all on a balance.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “You mean like, it cosmically balances or something? Like, for every moment of depression there’s one of happiness?”

“Depression.” Cas seemed to be thinking about the word for a moment, and then he continued, “No, nothing so… rigorously predestined. I merely mean that there’s the possibility for both.”

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Huh,” he said. “That’s kind of…profound, I guess.” Sounding intelligent – Dean Winchester’s specialty.

“I think you should drive faster,” Cas suggested. “I’d like to explore the possibility for pleasure at home.” Dean swallowed, trying to ignore the twinge the words sent through his cock, and pushed his foot down on the gas.

_When I look into your magic eyes_

_The mirror of my love_

_I like to see you smiling back at me_

_It makes me feel so good_

_Need to keep you satisfied_

_The only way I know_

_And all the cares I cannot hide_

_Will never show when we’re making love_

_Whoa, making love_

When they were back in the bunker, they both kicked their shoes off at Dean’s door. From there, it was a matter of moments before their jackets, over-shirts, shirts and t-shirts were flung to the floor and they were locked together in a kiss, bare skin brushing tantalizingly. Cas’ tongue darted into Dean’s mouth, punctuated by shallow thrusts of his hips. They had almost all week, but Dean was more than ready to get this show on the road. He undid Cas’ belt and sank to his knees, unzipping Cas’ fly and drawing Cas’ hardening cock out. He sank all the way down, feeling Cas’ dick stiffen on his tongue. He smirked, and swirled his tongue around the head before bobbing up and down a few more times. Cas’ cock was hot and heavy between his lips, stretching the flesh there wide, and Dean groaned at the feeling. His own cock was twitching and hardening, straining against the confines of his jeans. Dirty little moans were falling from Cas’ lips, and Dean wanted to memorize every sound. He pressed a palm down on himself, desperate for some friction. He watched as he took inch after inch of Cas into his mouth, watched the smooth, red flesh disappear into his mouth until he was struggling not to gag. He remembered Cas’ grace slipping between his lips, filling every inch of his body with their mingling souls. And he pulled off and said all in a rush, “I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t anything they’d done before. Except that Dean had never _asked_ for it before. The first time, he’d wanted to show Cas the same pleasure he’d felt, and the second time, it had just felt right. This was the first time he was point blank asking.

Cas looked down at him, chest heaving, cheeks deliciously flushed. And Dean barely had time to think that he wasn’t even _surprised_ how much he _wanted_ it, wanted Cas fucking him, his cock in Dean’s ass, the pure physical sensation of being full – he wanted _that_ as much as he wanted that reverence Cas brought to sex, that spiritual aspect; before Cas was pulling him to his feet, picking him up and setting him down on the bed. Dean’s eyes were wide as Cas turned him over, pulled out the lube, slicked up his fingers and began methodically making Dean fall apart. “Yes, Dean.” Cas breathed as he opened him, little strings of praise that showed Cas knew that this, Dean asking for this, it meant something. Maybe that finally, both their barriers had been chipped away and there was nothing left but the spikes of pleasure that Cas’ curling fingers sent through Dean.

_Don’t believe that I’m a liar_

_But I can’t get enough_

_Never knew I could be higher_

_Just by making love_

_How can I deny my heart?_

_When my love is blind!_

_I’ve got no choice, I’ve gone too far_

_I lose my mind when we’re making love_

_Oh, making love_

When Dean was open and wet and ready, Cas withdrew his fingers and slowly, slowly, slid in. Cas gave a soft sigh of satisfaction as he bottomed out, balls gently slapping Dean’s skin. “You know,” Cas said in a low whisper, planting a kiss between Dean’s shoulderblades. “I love being inside you.” Dean canted his hips back, desperate for Cas to goddamn _move_ already. Cas stayed still, his hard cock stretching Dean open, just shy of where he needed it. “I love you fucking me, too,” Cas added contemplatively, and rocked a little into Dean. Dean moaned, the tiny movement causing the thick head of Cas’ dick to rest against his prostate.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean hissed.

Cas pulled out fully before thrusting back in. Dean moaned at the sweet, wet ecstasy of it. One of Cas’ hands came up to rub at Dean’s nipple, and Dean fell apart. “Fuck, Cas, yes. Angel.” Cas nearly purred at the stupid nick-name, and started fucking Dean in earnest. “Fucking love this,” Dean admitted recklessly. And there it was. The final, tattered shred of the elaborate tapestry of denial he’d woven for so man years.

“Yes,” Cas grunted, and Dean wasn’t sure whether it was an answer to what he’d said or an exclamation. They made love deep and slow, sweat running down Dean’s neck as he trembled, trembled at the waves of sensation the heady slide of Cas’ cock into him cause, and Cas held him tight. They came at the same time, Cas’ erection pulsing inside of Dean, filling him with hot cum, and Dean groaned, bucking his hips wildly, pleasure flying through him.

“Dean,” Cas said quietly, later, when he was lying in Dean’s arms and Dean was just about to drift off.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, sleepy and sated.

Cas leaned forward and very deliberately kissed Dean’s collarbone. “That’s all.” He said in a low voice, before shifting slightly closer to Dean. Dean frowned, kissed the top of Cas’ head, and he fell asleep tangled together with the angel.

_Don’t believe I’m a liar_

_But I can’t get enough_

_Never knew I could be higher_

_Just by making love_


	35. Tell Me What You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell Me What You See, by The Beatles  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihyekVpdtWw  
> I was going to use I Want You, also by The Beatles, which was recced by camryn5759 on FF.net, but then I came across this song and thought it fitted it so well that I had to use it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter was damn well over due!  
> I was never really into the Beatles that much, they sometimes seemed a little... watered down, in comparison to the rock I normally like, but this song is quickly becoming one of my obsessions!

Dean dialed Sam’s number, not without some trepidation. The last thing he wanted to do was call his brother while he was, y’know, _in the middle of something._ On the other hand, he needed girlie romantic advice, and Sam was definitely the right man for that. So, Dean held his breath and listened to Sam’s phone ring one, two, three, four, five times.

“Dean?” Sam picked up, sounding blurry and a little pissed off.

“Yeah. So here’s the thing. Hypothetically, if someone were to need your advice on what sort of a first date to take a certain angel on, what would you say? Hypothetically?”

There was a long pause. “Good on you, Dean.”

Dean frowned.

“I didn’t think you knew the word ‘hypothetically’,” Sam scoffed. “Seriously? You guys have never been on a date? Like, ever?”

“Well, it didn’t really… come up,” Dean said, scrunching up his face. “With the whole, he doesn’t eat or understand movies thing.” There had been the bar, and the movie on Halloween, but they hadn't really been... official. And this just felt like something Dean oughta do properly. Even if he had no clue how.

“And the whole doing the whole relationship backwards thing,” Sam pointed out.

“I don’t think-”

“Dean, you met when he pulled you out of hell after you kickstarted the apocalypse, it took you years to get your shit together, and you screwed before having your first date.”

Dean was silent. Kid had a point, but hell if he was going to admit it.

“So let’s just be clear here. You are point blank asking for my advice on something.” Sam sounded a little too smug.

“Hypothetically,” Dean tacked on.

He could almost hear the eye-roll on the other end of the line. “Well… he likes poetry, doesn’t he?”

“Weirdly, yeah.” Dean muttered.

“So, take him to a book store or something. Just… I dunno, watch him browse for a couple of hours. Or maybe a poetry recital. Or… uh, I, gotta go,” Sam said, sounding suddenly distracted. “You should, ah, bring him flowers…” Sam trailed off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you get back to your sex-fest. Thanks. Y’know,” Dean grumbled. “Hypothetically.”

“Right.” There was a click and the other end of the line went dead. Dean put his phone down with a soft sigh. He laced his fingers together and thought for a few moments.

An hour later, he set about looking for Cas. He found the angel in front of the bunker, watching a bee pollinating the sole flower that was springing up from a crack in the concrete. “Castiel,” Dean whispered, looping his arms around Cas’ middle and pressing himself against Cas’ back. “Would you, uh, wanna go on a date with me?” He asked, letting some awkward schoolboy charm creep into his voice.

Cas frowned, eventually tearing his eyes off the bumblebee. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Come on.” And he dragged Cas by his blue shirt-sleeve next to the Impala, holding the passenger’s side door open for him with a cheesy grin. He hopped in the driver’s seat, turned the key, felt the engine rev to live under him and obligingly slid the cassette tape into the stereo. “This is the Beatles,” Dean said. “They’re important, for some reason. The song’s not half bad,” he muttered. Thankfully, Cas had long since mastered the art of understanding Dean’s emotional understatements, and he tipped his head back, foot gently starting to thump to the music.

_You let me take your heart, I will prove to you_

_We will never be apart, if I’m part of you_

_Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see_

_It is no surprise now, what you see is me_

They pull up outside a ramshackle bookstore in Lebanon, half second hand and half new books. Some of the shelves are neatly stacked with alphabetized volumes, but in the rest of the store books towered up in high piles that Dean was amazed didn’t fall over. Dean held the door open for him with a shy smile, and watched Cas’ face light up.

“I was gonna take you out for breakfast or something,” Dean said, walking alongside Cas as Cas trawled through the aisles, running his fingertip over the spine of each book he passed. “But then you don’t really eat… And I thought maybe a movie, but half the fun of movies is the popcorn and-”

“Dean.” Cas cut him off, raising his head to look at Dean. “This is perfect.” With a stony glare, he silenced Dean’s blabbering.

 _Thank you, Sammy._ Dean thought silently. 

They spent hours there, Cas seemingly determined to leave no book unseen. Dean was quite sure he used angel mojo to magic books from the middle of lopsided stacks without making the whole thing fall over. Dean trailed Cas around the store, watching his face light up, eyes scan intently over the back of books, long fingers flip elegantly through the pages. It was the second sign today that he was becoming a complete and utter sap – first the Beatles, now the ability to just watch someone, for hours, and not get bored. Then again, Cas was easy on the eyes, to put it mildly. Dean smiled, feeling the flare of possessiveness warm his chest as he gazed on at Cas and thought, _Mine. My angel._

Eventually, Cas picked up a slim blue volume of collected poems. He didn’t ask for it, exactly, probably because he was still a little unclear on what the notion of Dean taking him out for a date meant. He just held it longer than he had the others, fingers resting on the pages like he didn’t want to let go. “That one?” Dean asked. "Neanderthals weren't the only ones that got it right, huh?"

Cas gave a single nod, and Dean took the volume from him with a little more care than he would have ordinarily. He held it between his hands for a moment, looking at the slightly scuffed cover, and wondering what it was that had so enraptured Cas. “All right,” he said, and sauntered off to the cashier.

When they were sitting back in the Impala, Cas running his thumbs over the smooth cover and the Beatles playing embarrassingly loudly, Dean asked, “So, do you want to-”

“I think we should imbibe intoxicating spirits.” Cas answered in a gravelly voice.

And that was good, because Dean hadn’t had a fucking clue what he’d been about to say next. Drive all the way to Vegas, get married by a dude dressed as Elvis? Go home, practice our aim with shotguns, shirtless, pretending we’re in Brokeback Mountain? Listen to him babble cliché statements about the depth of Cas’ eyes? Go see the latest Nicholas Sparks movie? Chop up some vampires together, just like old times in Purgatory? Yeah, it was a good thing Cas hadn’t let Dean finish that sentence. “Works for me,” Dean said, flashing a grin towards Cas. “Lemme guess. Copious quantities?” This sort of date, he could handle.

_Big and black the clouds may be, time will pass away_

_If you put your trust in me, I’ll make bright your day_

_Look into these eyes, now, tell me what you see_

_Don’t you realize now, what you see is me_

_Tell me what you see_

They found a bar just on the nice side of comfortably divey, and Dean was just about to sit down at the bar when Cas grabbed his wrist. Dean spun around, all too familiar with the gesture in too many different contexts. Restraining him from making a kill, catching him when he fell, stilling him so Cas could kiss him. Dean’s eyes were wide as his brain worked to figure out which this was; a hunter’s instincts never really dissipated, no matter how much lovey-dovey crap they were crushed under. Cas’ eyes narrowed as he watched Dean, clearly understanding the source of Dean’s confusion.

Cas just pointed with his other hand and said, “They have seats outside.”

“All right,” Dean agreed. He ordered a fifth of whiskey and half a bottle of tequila – to start them off. The bartender gave him an indulgent yet skeptical look as she handed him two bottles. He watched her meditatively as she bent to get him two glasses. Nice cleavage. Seriously. Nice. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive, just that he was completely distracted and uninterested by the fact that she wasn’t _Cas._ Huh.

And Cas was already waiting outside for him, flopped down on the dark green lawn and ignoring the perfectly good chairs. Dean rolled his eyes, trying to pretend the sight of Cas in his light blue button up and dark jeans, looking unusually relaxed on the grass, eyes sparkling, didn’t send flutters through his stomach. It didn’t work, and so he knelt by Cas, handing him the tequila.

Cas took it appreciatively, swallowing a gulp and smacking his lips – a gesture he surely must have learned from Dean. “Mm.”

“Good molecules?” Dean asked, taking a swig of whiskey.

“Very.” Cas answered with a wry smile.

And Dean isn’t exactly sure how they got from there to them both lying flat on the grass, Cas on his back, Dean propped up on his elbows, Dean absentmindedly picking daisies and laying them in the hollow of Cas’ collarbone, dusting him with thin white petals; but he suspects it has something to do with the buzzing in his chest and the intense desire to kiss Cass, all sloppy and hot and –

“I wonder if a human has ever fallen in love with a daisy,” Cas said, holding a single daisy up to the red light of the setting sun and studying it.

“You’re ridiculous sometimes,” Dean hummed happily. He wasn’t sure he ever felt this good before Cas.

Cas contemplated him for a moment before simply saying, “I fell in love with you.”

And –

Oh.

_Oh._

“Is that how you see me?” Dean asked, flabbergasted. “Some sort of… fragile little flower?”

Cas frowned. “Daisies are actually remarkably resilient. I suppose in terms of our respective lifetimes, you could be a perennial flower and I could be an oak tree… All living things, in fact, seem to be a remarkable mix of breakable and resilient… you and the daisy are no exception.”

“First roses, now daisies?” Dean asked, a little bitterly.

Cas sighed. “I apologize.” He sat up, and with a wave of his hand, the daisies disappeared. Dean frowned for a moment before he saw the picked daisies taking root again, growing once more. When Dean stared at them, watching them, desperately trying to decide if he minded being compared to them, Cas said, “I resurrected them.”

“Shit,” Dean mumbled at Cas’ dramatic phrasing. “I didn’t think I was, y’know, killing them.”

Cas shook his head. “Can I read you a poem, Dean?”

“By all means.” Dean turned over on his back, watching the sky. He decided, privately, that roses weren’t so bad. At least they had thorns. And daisies… well, if that claimed him a spot on Cas’ skin, he’d take it. But this was a conversation strictly between drunk-him and his brain, which was never to be repeated to sober-him.

Cas watched him, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed before beginning. "A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!" Cas' gravelly voice gained a certain rhythmic lilt when he read poetry, and Dean was quickly suckered in, almost lulled to sleep by the words. "You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!" Cas finished. Dean didn't think it was the end of the poem, and he opened his eyes. Cas was staring at him with a piercing gaze, and Dean sensed that he was strongly making a point with the poem. Dean was too drunk, too happy and maybe even a little moved to argue, so he lazily smiled. Being a flower was all right. As long as Cas was the one who was in love with him.

_Listen to me one more time_

_How can I get through?_

_Can’t you try to see that I’m trying to get you?_

_Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see_

_It is no surprise now, what you see is me_

_Tell me what you see_

Later, they collapsed onto the couch together, laughing as Dean tried and fail to get his jacket off, tugging in all the wrong directions. Cas fell on top of him, their bodies tangled together. “Dean,” Cas said quietly.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I enjoyed our date today.” Cas said.

“Think I could steal a kiss?” Dean smirked. Cas lifted his head up for a moment, traced the line of Dean’s jaw with a finger and then leaned in and kissed him, deep and sweet. Dean let out a soft sigh of satisfaction.

“Could I ask you a question?” Cas looked hesitant.

“Shoot,” Dean said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“It’s about free will. How does one know when one is making the right decision? I’ve… I’ve made the wrong decision many times, and it usually leads to letting you down… how do I… how do I know,” Cas said, not quite meeting Dean’s gaze.

Dean stared at him. Not that wanted to admit it, but he was gauging the situation. Was this a genuine question? A prequel to tear-strewn cheeks and shaking hands? A flight risk? He didn’t want to misjudge and end up being a dick. “You don’t. You can’t. You just do whatever seems right, what seems best at the time, or whatever you can’t stand not to do.”

Cas nodded against his chest, and tightened his grip on Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean looked down at him, and ran a hand through his hair. Silky soft and black against his fingers. “I love you,” Dean said softly.

“Likewise,” Cas murmured against him.

And maybe if he’d been something beyond human, if he’d had Sam’s shrink-like ability of gauging emotions, he might have stayed awake a little longer. But he was only human, and drunk, and everything was good, and he was in love, and he drifted off peacefully. He woke up alone.

_Listen to me one more time_

_How can I get through?_

_Can’t you try to see that I’m trying to get you?_

_Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see_

_It is no surprise now, what you see is me_

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear.  
> The poem is Sunflower Sutra, by Allen Ginsberg. It's wonderful, and I must confess I discovered it only through a variety of other fics who referenced it. Thank you, more literary fanfic authors than I!


	36. Seagull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seagull, by Bad Company  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWwGV0sdOr0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm too nice to let you wait in suspense and also because I wanna know what you guys thinks of this: the next chapter! You shouldn't need too many tissues.

“Cas?” He called out. His head pounded, and for a moment it was nothing more than the simple desire for (nearly) human warmth, as well as an angelic hangover cure, that made him call.

There was no answer.

“Castiel?” He called a second time, his voice cracking. The realization flooded him: _he’s not here._ And as if the swirling flood wasn’t bad enough, a whirlpool formed in its wake; _why?_

His heart beat faster. “No, no, no.” He whispered to himself. “Not gonna freak out.” He walked stiffly down the empty – empty! – halls to the kitchen, where he swiftly swallowed half his stash of anti-hangover pills with a swig of whiskey. _Is that ironic?_ He wondered. And that sent a twinge through his side, because Cas never got irony, and Cas wasn’t here. He was gone.

Gone. He turned the word over in his head, staring at the blank wall. By no desire of his own, apart from some half-hope that Cas might be there, or a masochistic urge to see that he wasn’t, he unconsciously turned and started to walk to the cassette room. He stared at the cassette desk. It was a dusty old thing. Some of the plastic was cracked. _Bad Company,_ he thought. _That’ll calm me down._ He frowned, noticing there was always a cassette in there. It was his mixtape, he noticed when he pulled it out. Wound all the way to the end. Which meant Cas had listened to the whole thing before he left. Dean mentally went through the songs they hadn’t listened to together – Feels Like Love, Survivor (cheesy, but come on!), Carry On My Wayward Son, Kansas (there was something epic there, something he thought Cas might relate to), and finally, Learning to Fly, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Cas knew what he was talking about now, that day in the woods.

Jesus. He shoved the Bad Company cassette in, and his fingers trembled as he fast-forwarded blindly, hoping for something that would ease his mind, something with minimal lyrics and a catchy guitar lick –

But of course, it was this. He closed his eyes as the sounds of the twelve-string guitar gently strummed over him, and a single tear slid down his cheek.

_Don’t overreact,_ he raged silently. There could be a thousand reasons Cas had left. Seriously. Maybe he wasn’t even gone. Maybe he was outside, or was locked in some room somewhere, reading. He hadn’t even looked. Maybe Cas just went out, or got bored of watching Dean sleep – that was perfectly possible, right? Maybe he was off somewhere, watching the bees.

The tear left a sticky track down his face and hung, poised, on the edge of his jaw. He wiped it away savagely before it could fall. Because Cas wasn’t here, goddamnit, and he wasn’t out looking at flowers, and that meant there was no one to grab his wrist and stop him from wiping his tears away, no one to tell that the tears weren’t always bad. “Goddamnit,” he swore. _This is what happens when you love something,_ he thought, hollow inside. _Gone, gone, gone._ More tears started welling up, eager to take their companion’s place. “Fuck.” So Cas was gone. That was… that was fine, wasn’t it? Cas had wings. He could fly wherever the hell he wanted, Dean had always told him that, from the beginning. He wasn’t under any obligation to stay. He probably just got bored of Dean’s mortal charms, or something, and was off on an angel safari. And if he was doing that, then there was a chance he’d come back. Right.

And that was just the kind of argument he could’ve convinced himself with before Cas had come to the Bunker. Before everything between them. He could’ve brushed it off, found himself a case and drowned the spasm of pain and worry in a waterfall of whiskey. But the things that had passed between the two of them – Cas knew he loved him, needed him, goddamnit, _needed him!_ All those times, Cas had stayed, because they needed each other. Cas wouldn’t leave, not like this, not after everything. Things had changed. He gritted his teeth.

So... once more with feeling, _why?_

_Seagull you fly across the horizon_

_Into the misty morning sun_

_Nobody asks you where you are going_

_Nobody knows where you’re from_

Dean wrung his hands. Because if Cas hadn’t left for any of the reasons Dean had already thought of, which he wouldn’t, God, he couldn’t, then that meant something bad had happened. Something dangerous. Which meant Cas could be dead. Fuck, he could be dead.

Desolation stole over him, icy and relentless. That wasn’t… it couldn’t… no. He stared up at the window, searching the blue desperately for anything, for any shred of hope hidden in the ribbons of cloud.

_Hope is the thing with feathers._ The phrase floated to him, for a moment unknown, and then he remembered. Emily Dickens. Cas had read it to him – said – Jesus, he’d said without it, he might not have come back to Dean. Dean gulped, tears breaking from above his eyelid and streaking down his face. _Hope is the thing with feathers,_ he repeated, like a mantra. And abruptly, on the third time through – _hope is the thing with feathers_! – his heart broke. Because it was true, all too painfully accurate in ways it was never meant to be. Cas was his hope, his ‘thing with feathers’, those fucking beautiful wings he might never see again. Cas had dragged his sorry ass up from hell, showed him light, saved him more times than he could count, when he was gasping what he thought would be his last breath and called out to Cas – he came. Cas had showed him faith. Had showed him this aching, awful _hope_ inside him.

With the realization, another recollection floated back to him. It was fuzzy and whiskey-tinged around the edges, from last night. “ _It’s about free will. How do I… how do I know…”_

“Jesus, Cas.” He breathed. He raised a hand to wipe at his wet cheeks, and frowned. There was something on his hand. He held up his palm. In smudged, scrawled black letters, it read:

‘Dean.

I will return.’

That was it. Four words, in Cas’ writing. He let out a shaky laugh, and methodically cleaned the tears from his face. That was a promise. He had to believe it.

_There is a man asking the question_

_Is this really the end of the world?_

_Seagull, you must have known for a long time_

_The shape of things to come_

“I’m the man,” he said dumbly, lost in the lyrics. “Asking. Cas, you better be coming back, you sonofabitch…” A sob worked its way into his throat, making his chest ache. “Why didn’t you tell me you were goin’?” He asked, staring at the light beams filtering through the dust of the room, voice almost inaudibly soft.

A soft flutter of wings sounded through the room, starting up a cacophony in Dean’s chest. He jumped to his feet and saw Cas, in his ugly trench-coat and all his glory, before him. Dean froze. The irrational thought that if he moved, Cas might fly away again, like a startled bird, bubbled up. Maybe it was the way Cas was leaning to one side, or how he wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, or –

Cas lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Dean, nearly clawing at him as he gripped the hunter, breath labored. Dean immediately returned the embrace, glad for how tight Cas was holding him, glad for how it made his ribs ache and he could scarcely breathe. It was real, concrete. Cas was here. Cas was back. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean muttered, crushing his lips to Cas’ head and burying his nose in Cas’ black hair. Closing his eyes.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said, muffled against Dean’s chest.

That was all it took. Dean started to cry. And found that he couldn’t stop.

_Now you fly, through the sky, never asking why!_

_And you fly, all around, till somebody_

_Shoots you down._

_Seagull you fly across the horizon_

Now he was the one clawing at Cas, clutching at his trench-coat, sobbing out, “You sonofabitch, where were you? Where _were_ you?” Cas held him for a minute, steady, solid, so good.

Then he said, “Heaven.”

The word nearly knocked Dean’s tears out of him. Nearly. “Heaven? Why would you – why did you go there?” There was an edge to his voice now, a hint of that dangerous tone he used so effectively when torturing confessions out of demons. It seemed to say, _Tell me, or so help me God._

Cas pulled away, slightly, blue eyes cast towards the floor.

“Cas.” Dean said, his voice ragged. “Why were you in heaven, and why do you look like you came through Hell on the way back?” It was true. Cas looked pale, and upon closer inspection, he was shaking.

“I went to confess my sins and be put on trial for them.”

“You what?!” Dean hissed, grabbing Cas by the lapels of his trench-coat, hauling him closer and holding him on his tiptoes. He opened his mouth to say more, to yell at Cas, punch him maybe, but instead he just pressed his lips closed, withholding a sob.

“It’s not what you think,” Cas managed, staring into the fiery depths of Dean’s eyes. “Dean,” he sighed wearily. Dean unclenched his fists. Let Cas go.

“Sit,” he said numbly, gesturing towards the chair. Cas ignored it and sank to the floor instead, suddenly overcome. Dean was only a moment in sliding down beside him. Letting their shoulders touch.

“I’ll admit,” Cas said haltingly. “That I was considering this action when I first came here. When you found me that day. At the time, it would’ve been a suicide mission, lying across the divine train-tracks. You showed me something better – not only the ways of humanity, but your ways, which I became…” Cas trailed off. “Rather pleasurably enraptured by.” In spite of everything, Dean’s lips twitched up into half a smile. “I started thinking, though. Maybe it was when you asked me if I missed it, our essences mixing together, in a way which ordinarily they can only do on the metaphysical planes – Heaven and Hell, not Earth or Purgatory. Maybe it was before that. It made me think just how much I would lose of you, when you…” Castiel steeled himself. “Died.”

“That was why you agreed to do it,” Dean realized. “In the Garden. You thought you might never have a chance to again.”

“I wanted you to know what it felt like,” Cas confessed. “That was probably selfish. But I…” his mouth curled into a small smile. “I wouldn’t change it. Anyway, I began to wonder if my motivation for putting myself before the angels before was wrong, but if perhaps the action itself was the right one.”

Dean closed his eyes. “How in holy hell are you still alive?”

_Into the misty morning sun_

_Nobody asks you where you are going_

_Nobody knows where you’re from_

_Now you fly through the sky, never asking why!_

_And you fly all around, till somebody_

_Shoots you down_

“I went before them. I asked for a trial. Some of them wanted to kill me outright, but the majority were fair. That surprised me. I confessed my transgressions, in every last detail. Every angel I had killed, and why. The things I had done on Earth. After it was all said and done, many still wished me dead. And then someone stepped forward. It was Joshua,” Cas said, smiling and shaking his head. “Come out of his garden to hear me speak. He asked me _why_ I had laid myself at their mercy, and pointed out that such an action in itself showed the desire for forgiveness.”

“Joshua. The dude from the Garden?” Dean asked.

“Yes. Do you know he built that Greenhouse, Dean? Our Garden? He designed it to give faith to lost souls. He is a good brother.” Cas looked at his hands for a moment before continuing. “I told them what I could – explained it, to the best of my ability…” he trailed off. “I only got two words out.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, feeling his pulse beat in his throat.

“Dean Winchester.” Cas said. “Joshua, and a few others spoke out in my favor. They were few, but I… I hadn’t expected any. Others claimed that for an angel to love a human was blasphemy and that I ought to be punished for it. Eventually, the sides came to a compromise. I was to serve a sentence, as it were, and be stripped of certain things.”

“Things, Cas? What things?” Dean asked, searching Cas’ face wildly for any clue. He resolutely tried to ignore the idea that Cas had done this for him, because that would just be another time he endangered Cas’ life.

_Seagull, you fly_

_Seagull, you fly away_

_And you fly away today_

_And you fly away tomorrow_

_And you fly, away_

_Leave me to my sorrow_

“They took my ability to kill using my grace. I’ll be less useful on hunts..” Dean shook his head, hoping to reassure Cas with the gesture. Cas continued. “My ability to hear angel radio, to time travel, a few other things. I can still fly, and heal, and hear prayers. Taking those would have been… I would no longer have had any claim to the title of angel. I can pass into Heaven, but only through Joshua’s Garden, and I can never return there permanently, with the other angels. I am forbidden for seeking direct contact with other angels, but not from returning it. If I interfere with their plans in any way, I will be put to death. If I transgress in any way…” Cas waved a hand. “That’s not of import. If I have to stop them doing something, it will be important enough the consequences won’t matter.”

“There’s more,” Dean said.

“Yes. When angels die, their essence returns to Heaven, not as a being exactly, but the energy which was contained in their grace fuels Heaven. Mixes with divinity. They’re not meant to have any retained sense of consciousness. When I die, the energy from my Grace will spread through Earth. My being, my consciousness, will be reduced to essentially a human soul. The fate of _that_ will be decided by a further Tribunal – heaven, hell, perhaps even Purgatory. They thought that was a punishment,” Cas laughed, tilting his head up  to gaze at the ceiling. “They thought that having my grace spread through the earth, the trees, the flowers, that that would be a waste of a seraph. And to reduce my essence to a human soul, instead of the vast, expansive, celestial scope – they thought they were shedding dishonor on me.” Dean blinked. “I suppose, from their point of view, they are.”

“You’re saying that, when you die, your _soul_ or whatever, will go up to heaven?” Dean asked, voice trembling with hope, that wonderful, terrible, thing with feathers.

“Possibly. Assuming they don’t decide better of it.” Cas said.

“With… me?” Dean asked.

Cas looked over at him, eyes flashing, and said unequivocally, “ _Yes._ ” The lump in Dean’s throat dissipated. “I’ve been directed to spend my time on Earth hunting demons and monsters. Doing their dirty work, I suppose. For the rest of my, nearly eternal life, they told me I must wander like Cain did, slaying evil where I find it.”

A furrow appeared in Dean’s brow. “They want you as like, a rogue hunter or something? After they took away your ability to kill using your mojo? Are you sure you… I mean, signing up for thousands upon thousands of years of _this_?”

Cas regarded him steadily. “I suppose they thought that was… ironic.” Dean almost laughed. “And yes. Dean, I don’t regret anything I did today. I was judged by my brothers and sisters and some spoke in my defense. I was granted a far better punishment than I could have hoped for, and at the end of everything, I will find you waiting. Not even dying an aeon of deaths could turn me away from that.” Cas didn’t meet Dean’s eye when he said that last part.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas stared at where their knees brushed. “They made me relive every death I had ever caused. It took a long time.”

Blank, glassy shock before murderous hot rage. “They tortured you. As penance.”

Cas looked firmly up into his eyes. “Dean. It was justice. For all the people I’ve killed. It was hell, absolute hell, which I _caused_ , unjustly, by doing the wrong things. I kept wondering if perhaps you would come and pull me from my private hell – and I – I remembered that I had promised to return. At the end of it… Now… I feel… absolution.” Cas’ eyes were open and honest and _yes,_ they had the tinge of death and pain in them, but there was also something stronger there.

“You’re telling me that today you risked your life, signed up to be a hunter for the rest of your life, and died thousands of time, all because of-”

Cas silenced him with a stony glare. “Dean. You may not understand now, but what I did – it was the right thing. I have finally paid for the death and destruction I caused. I have been judged by my brethren and I – I have not been found wanting. The punishment was not an injust one.”

Dean dropped his gaze. In the face of all of it, he couldn’t be angry. Maybe at the angels, but not at Cas. “You were brave,” he said hoarsely, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. “So brave.”

“There’s… there’s one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Dean scarcely dared to open his eyes.

A crackle of electricity forces him to. He blinked. Black wings unfurled and wrapped around him. Black? “Cas, what-”

“They changed the color of my wings to… mark me. As different.” Dean swallowed, another swell of anger at the heavenly dickbags with wings washing over him. Dean ran his fingers over the shining, ebony feathers instead. Cas didn’t need an outburst of anger.

“They’re beautiful, Cas.” He said firmly, and saw Cas relax almost imperceptibly. “You’re not any different to me.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, voice low.

It was all quiet. Then, in barely more than a whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going?”

Cas sighed, and rested his head on Dean’s. The answer hit Dean right in the core of him and still, he couldn’t be angry. Could only watch as Cas stopped him from wiping his own tears away. “Because I couldn’t bear for you to try to stop me, and I couldn’t bear to stay only to eventually slip away.”

_Seagull, go on and fly_

_Fly to your tomorrow_

_And leave me to my sorrow, I._


	37. Comin' Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comin' Back To Me, by Jefferson Airplane  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NdvMT32skw  
> This is not exactly a happy song, but parts of it screamed Destiel, and it's gorgeous besides.

It was hovering on the edge between spring and summer, and sunshine peeked intermittently through the rain showers. Dean was drying the dishes from breakfast, focused on slicking water away with the fluffy plaid towel. The monotonous task gave him a chance to think, and the thoughts which rose to the surface unbidden were mostly concerned with how the Winchesters, demon-hunters extraordinaire, had both become romantic saps.  He set a cup on the drying rack and picked up a plate. He wouldn’t go back to how it was before, that he knew. A squirt of soap. Working it up into a lather. Maybe now, they were actually –

“Dean, why have we never ingested chemical substances to alter our mental state?” Cas asked suddenly.

When Dean caught the plate, it was inches away from smashing against the bottom of the sink. He stared at it for a moment, and then set it aside, slowly, deliberately. “You’re asking me why we’ve never taken drugs?”

“That’s something humans do, isn’t it? It seems interesting.” Cas was leaning against the door behind him. Dean could feel the angel’s eyes flickering over him.

“Interesting,” Dean repeated. He almost wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t help remembering that _other_ world, the one Zachariah had shown him. Cas downing pills with a twisted smile and a, ‘That’s how I roll.’ He stared at the sink, trying to find focus in the droplet of water hanging off the end of the faucet, trembling against its inevitable descent. It didn’t work, and he turned to Cas, burying his hands in the towel to dry them. He reminded himself firmly that this was _his_ Cas, not that other Cas, in that other time. The thought grounded him somewhat. “I guess I never thought of it.”

“You’ve never been high?” Cas asksed, rolling the phrase off his tongue as if to test it.

“No, it’s not that.” Dean laughed. “I have. I just…” He trailed off, and put the towel aside, immediately regretting it. Now he had nothing to occupy his hands with.

Truth be told, he had thought of it, once or twice. Early on, when he wondered what sort of things every person should do at least once, to explore the full spectrum of being human. After that, after they… well. Cas and he got so drunk off each other he hadn’t stopped to think of adding anything else to it. And thinking of Cas rambling about amphetamines back in Camp Wachitaka would always have stopped him short.

“Dean?” Cas asked, and there was an edge to his voice, like he knew Dean wasn’t telling him something.

Dean didn’t have to think about it for too long. Cas knew the most intimate secrets of his soul, his vulnerabilities, his broken spots. This wasn’t such a big thing, in the face of all that. “Remember when Zachariah zapped me to the future, the one where Sammy said yes and I didn’t? The one we stopped?” Cas nodded once. “I never told you, did I? You were, ah, you were human. And you were a serious hippy,” Dean tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. “I mean, orgies, drugs, the whole shebang.” He looked away. That explanation could have gone about a hundred times better. “I guess I just didn’t want that to happen to you here.”

Cas thought it over for a while. “I’m stronger than that now, Dean.”

“Right. Cause torture therapy fixed your head?” He regretted it the instant he said it, but he was still bitter that Cas had let the angels do that to him.

It was funny, though. Dean had never once thought of Cas as being ‘weak’ for doing all those drugs. Maybe broken, because he had stayed after all the other angels left. But weak? Maybe it was true. But he could never think of Cas, any version of Cas, that way.

“No,” Cas ground out, and Dean didn’t blame him. But he didn’t say anything other than, “Because I have you.”

“Pretty sure you had me at Camp Chitaqua too.” Cas blinked for a moment in surprise at the innuendo in Dean’s tone. “Didn’t do you much good.”

“Dean.” Cas sighed. “Things are different. We’re stronger now, together.” When Dean didn’t say anything, Cas prompted. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Dean set his jaw but remained silent. “Why do you wanna do this?”

“Well… it’s my understanding that most of the music we listen to was composed under the influence of such stimulants, which fascinates me. I suppose I’m curious.”

“So… you want to take drugs, what, because Jimmy Hendrix did it?” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No. I wish to understand the altered state of consciousness which many humans tapped into by using chemical substances. I want to explore the experience.” Cas stared at him for a long moment.

The silence forced him to think about what Cas just said. They were stronger, now. Cas didn’t seem sad, not like he did at Wachitaka. Things were different. There was still a spark of caution in his gut, one that prompts him to growl, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

One of Cas’ eyebrows rose, but he didn’t object. “I understand.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “OK,” he said finally.

“OK?” Cas tilted his head to one side.

“You wanna do this, I can’t stop you. I might as well be there.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “And I did promise to teach you about humanity.”  

Cas nodded with a one-sided smile, and he said softly, “Yes. You did.”

****

Cas appeared the next day with a not insignificant number of joints in his hand.

“Where the hell did you get those?” Dean asked, wondering if he would ever get used to Cas appearing before his eyes.

“Someone’s backyard in Oregon,” Cas said nonchalantly. “I think I upset a teenage boy.”

Dean let out a light laugh. “All right. What say we get this show on the road?” Somewhere inside him, there was an oddly teenage desire to get loaded with his…Cas, springing maybe from how he’d never done anything like that before. It seemed like everyone, including Sam, had spent those years getting high with their fuck-buddies and friends. In his life, there hadn’t been many times where it was safe to just let loose, when he didn’t have responsibilities. He never would have taken drugs while taking care of Sammy, or when his Dad was in a hundred mile radius. He’d gotten stoned a few times when he was young, in between jobs and on his own, and once in high school. He’d never really gotten into it, though; he had to have his reflexes sharp. He had to know what was real and what wasn’t, and smoking pot didn’t exactly do wonders for that. But they were _safe_ here, and they were _together_ , and that provided for at least the possibility that letting go could be all right.

Cas nodded. “Come with me.” Dean found himself dragged by the wrist outside, along the road, up the hill and into the woods, now green with the anticipation of summer.

They stood by an oak tree which it took Dean a moment to realize. “This is where I found you,” he said.

Cas didn’t say anything for a while, just looked the tree up and down, from the thick, burly roots to the canopy that threw dappled light on their faces. “I want to reclaim it,” he said.

Dean let out a breath. While he thought that sounded like the recipe for a bad trip, he trusted Cas. “All right.” And he was the first one to sit down, to lean against the solid trunk.

Cas looked down at him, and disappeared before his eyes. “Cas, what the hell?!”

Cas’ voice floated to him from a few yards away, where the Impala was parked in the woods. Dean had been working on it outside, touching up the paint job. “It was my understanding that this required music.” He could hear the engine rumbling to life, no doubt under the effect of Cas’ angel mojo. A few moments later, gentle guitar filtered through the woods.

_The summer had inhaled_

_And held its breath too long_

_The winter looked the same_

_As if it never had gone_

Dean closed his eyes as he recognized the song. “Perfect,” he told Cas, when the angel reappeared, fumbling around in the pocket of his trench coat before drawing out a joint. Dean still couldn’t quite believe they were doing this. He reached for his lighter, and lit up the end of the joint barely, letting it smolder to a cherry red glow. Cas watched with intrigue as Dean brought it to his lips and inhaled, fighting the tickling urge to cough. Dean reached up and tilted Cas’ chin up to him, marveling at how easily the angel surrendered to his touch. He leaned down, Cas parting his lips obligingly, and blew a sweet puff of smoke into Cas’ mouth. Cas inhaled and held it for a moment before blowing it out.

“Interesting,” he remarked.

_And through an open window_

_Where no curtain hung_

_I saw you, I saw you_

_Comin’ back to me_

***

“Hey Cas,” Dean asked some hours later. “How come you keep comparing me to flowers?”

Dean lay on the forest floor, his head resting in Cas’ lap, staring up at the angel. It was late afternoon by now, golden light suffusing the forest. It was transformed from the bleak place it had been that first, fateful day, and Dean even thought it might be beautiful. To someone who hadn’t heard Cas crying here. That sound, like it had wormed its way to the surface, like it had sharp edges that might have cut Cas’ throat on the way up. He tightened his grip on Cas’ hand.

Maybe ordinarily, this place was too clouded with memories for him to enjoy. But now, the memories seemed faded, overpowered by the lustrous colors and the feel of Cas’ hand in his hair, sending sparks through his scalp. It would never be as beautiful as it could have been if he hadn’t seen Cas in abject despair here, if he had only happened upon it, but then again, none of _this_ would have happened either. It was a price worth paying.

He’d almost forgotten that he asked the question when Cas answered. “You’re a fire-flower.”

“How many of those have you had?” Dean asked, turning the words over and over again in his mind. _Fire-flower. Fire-flower._

_One begins to read between_

_The pages of a look_

_The shape of sleepy music_

_And suddenly you’re hooked_

 “It is not of import.” Cas paused. “You think of flowers as being weak. Fragile. Effeminate. That’s a human construct, a way of perceiving reality which is different to mine. I could snap your spine as easily as picking a flower, watch you die as quickly as a rose out of water wilts.” Dean stared up into Cas’ blue eyes, and he was spinning, spinning into them. Cas was right. Cas was eternal, unyielding, and yet, so – he squeezed Cas’ hand, to make sure that blood still pumped there, that the skin was still soft. That Cas was not entirely a warrior, removed from Dean’s mortal existence. “So?” Cas asked wonderingly, eyes flitting away from Dean’s to scan the sky as if for an answer. “If I was the storm, you sprung up in my path, brave and defiant, brilliant and blazing. I could have plucked you up and tossed you aside. As could any of my brethren. You are something more than impermanence, fleeting beauty and frailty, though.” Cas mused.

“Thanks,” Dean said sardonically. His head spun with Cas’ monologue; beautiful, confusing, increasingly strange and poetic.

“Tulips close at night and open in the morning. I suppose you’re like a tulip, too, then; hiding sometimes, but other times opening yourself to me.” Dean shivered at the wording. But still, he didn’t understand why Cas felt the need to compare him to flowers. “You’re not just a flower, though. You have the capacity for death, destruction, and great endurance.” Dean opened his mouth, but no words came. “Some flowers will hold on in very adverse conditions,” Cas informed him. “Amazing, really. You’re on fire, Dean. Beautiful. Bright. Fragile and I…” Cas stroked a thumb over Dean’s cheek, and Dean felt the touch like it cut through to the bare bone, soothed the parts of him inside that wanted to protest at Cas’ descriptions. “Imagine it, Dean. A human loving a flower. Loving it to the obliteration, the abandonment of all else, because the human saw something worthwhile, something valuable, some one-in-a million spark in that flower. Saw something that went beyond the mere nature of a flower, something about that flower that made it _more_ than breakable or beautiful. And loved it, for that and everything else. Loved it despite all logic. Imagine that, and you will have imagined how I love you.”

Dean couldn’t speak.

_Through the rain upon the trees_

_The kisses on the run_

_I saw you, I saw you_

_Comin’ back to me_

He stared up at Cas’ eyes, which were glassy and red at the edges, but still so very _blue_. He lost himself in them, tracing gold labyrinths through them until he rather forgot that Cas was staring back at him through them. When he remembered, his breath caught in his chest and he said, mouth dry, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

Cas laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. Dean put a hand to Cas’ chest, fancying that he could still feel the vibrations travelling through his skin.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked then. He licked his lips. They were cold and tingling at the same time. “That you love me, I mean.”

Cas stared down at him intently. “Dean.”

“You’re so, y’know,” Dean waved a hand, “Eternal and all. And I’m so… whatever I am, and Cas, I can’t imagine it! I can’t imagine loving a flower at all, so how can you possibly-”

Cas laid a finger to his lips. “Dean,” he growled. He paused, possibly regretting the use of so many metaphors. “You realize that everything you just asks also applies to how you could possibly love me. Something you didn’t even believe in until a few years ago. Something completely outside of your conception and so very alien and strange. If you can’t see that loving me is the same as-” he gestured into the air wildly. “Loving an avalanche whose path you are in, then see this. I will never lie to you. And when I told you I loved you, I was not lying.” Cas’ eyes blazed. “Dean, we are bonded in every possible way, and I…” Cas trailed off, the fire in his eyes fading slightly.

“I… I know.” Dean said. Goddamnit. This stuff had been all dealt with. All this crap, these _feelings_ , they’d been blown away when the fuck-Cas-loves-you bomb had been dropped. But being here now, being reminded of the time before all of that had happened, and with his faculties rather compromised by how he was convinced the leaves under his back might be alive… he said, “But this… feels so…”

“Good?” Cas asked, with one eyebrow arched.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed.

_You came to stay and live my way_

_Scatter my love like leaves in the wind_

_You always say you won’t go away_

_But I know what it always has been_

_It always has been a transparent dream_

_Beneath an occasional sigh_

 “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time here, Dean… when I stayed, against every instinct telling me that I shouldn’t stay, just because I _wanted_ to… it’s that we deserve this. We have been bruised, bloodied, killed and broken more times than I can count. And we’ve fought for this,” Cas said in a low voice, leaning down so Dean could feel his breath on his cheeks. “We deserve to feel good, Dean.”

“I…” Dean stared up. When had the sky turned red? When had the sun set? It was jaw-dropping, sending red tints all throughout Cas’ hair.

Cas pressed his lips against Dean’s, and god, Dean could _feel_ them so much more vividly than normal, full and velvety, juxtaposed by the scrape of stubble against his chin. Cas’ tongue swept along his lower lip, and Dean melted for him, letting him in. When Cas pulled away, Dean was panting slightly, eyes blown wide with lust. But Cas was considering him with something more like a question in his eyes, and Dean gasped, “Believe you. I believe you.”

_Most of the time I just let it go by_

_Now I wish it hadn’t begun_

_I saw you, yes I saw you_

_Comin’ back to me_

And the funniest thing was, he did. He believed Cas. Something expanded inside him and he felt weightless, giddy, finally free and he wrapped his hand around the back of Cas’ neck, pulling him in for another breathless kiss. Cas laughed against his lips and pulled away again. “I believe me too,” he said, too seriously. When Dean arched up off the ground and tried to kiss him again, Cas wrapped his arms firmly around Dean and before Dean could fully process what was happening, he was off the ground in Cas’ arms. He stared up, face slack with surprise for a moment. And then he laughed, laughed as Cas walked to the car, staring steadily down at him, love and trust practically shining out of his eyes. “Stop it,” he poked at Cas’ chest. Cas didn’t stop the staring, and the song fell into a slow guitar instrumental. “Don’t stop,” he murmured then.

_Strolling the hills overlooking the shore_

_I realize I’ve been here before_

_The shadow in the mist could have been anyone_

_I saw you, I saw you_

_Comin’ back to me_

Cas smiled, and with a relative amount of grace carried Dean to the Impala and set him on the edge of the back seat. Dean scooted backwards, grabbing at Cas’ hands and pulling the angel with him. The music was louder in here, thrumming through his bones, and Dean glanced around the car fondly. “Made some pretty good memories in here, huh?” Dean said.

Cas stroked the side of his jaw. “I would greatly like to make more.”

Dean grinned. “I think that can be arranged.” And he pulled Cas on top of him, relishing the solid weight on top of him. They kissed hotly, grinding against each other, every heightened sensation sending thrills through them. Dean came with his jeans around his knees and boxers not much behind, still mostly clothed, sent over the edge by the rough strokes of Cas’ hand. Cas wasn’t far behind, rocking into the hollow between Dean’s hip and his stomach, shooting come over their chests.

“I will always come back to you,” Cas murmured, breaking through Dean’s reverie about how on earth he’d never noticed just how good the leather smelled all the other times he’d had sex back here.

Dean ran a hand through Cas’ hair, and didn’t answer. He didn’t think he needed to. “I feel like a goddamn teenager,” he said, staring down at their come spattered shirts.

Cas laughed. “We did just do marijuana and have sex in the back seat of your car.”

“Smoke,” Dean corrected him. “You smoke weed. Not ‘do’ it.”

Cas hummed at the correction. He ran his fingers over Dean’s collarbone, pushing the edges of his shirt away. “Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s skin, the feeling sending butterflies fluttering through his skin. “This has been a most enlightening experience.”

_Small things like reasons are put in a jar_

_Whatever happened to wishes wished on a star?_

_Was it just something that I made up for fun?_

_I saw you, I saw you_

_Comin’ back to me_

Dean considered him briefly. “Enlightening?”

“I feel like I understand more about human society now. And like there are unfound mysteries to be discovered on your skin,” he said matter-of-factly, unbuttoning Dean’s shirt and beginning his exploration.


	38. Pour Some Sugar On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pour Some Sugar On Me, by Def Leppard  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaG8faaFUMM  
> Recommended by Raheem on FF.net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song is claaasic. And seriously sexy.

Dean wrapped himself around Cas, under the pretense of adjusting the angle of the double-barreled shotgun the angel was holding. It was the following day, and they’d slept off the remnants of their high in the Impala, pale morning sunlight streaming onto them. Dean had suggested that now Cas couldn’t kill with his grace, they ought to practice shooting. The perfect soundtrack, blaring loud enough to muffle the gun shots and shake the floors? Def Leppard.

Cas’ aim was nearly flawless, but Dean reached up to steady his hand anyway, savoring the press of Cas’ body against his. Cas’ eye was trained intently on the sights of the gun; that laser-like stare which Dean realized was usually aimed at him. “Now shoot,” Dean whispered in his ear, bracing his shoulder.

Cas pulled the trigger and pumped the shotgun in one fluid movement, releasing the red shell to the floor. Dean let out a low whistle. Cas had split the target figure’s head in half. “Try with the semi-automatic now.” Cas laid the shotgun down on the table after checking that there weren’t anymore shells left in the barrel, and picked up the other gun. He inserted the magazine clip, took the safety off and with only the muscle of his jaw flexing, planted three bullets in the bull’s-eye.

Dean swallowed, watching where Cas’ long fingers rested by the trigger. Fingers capable of such amazing things. They curled around the guard surrounding the trigger like they were made to sit there. Cas stayed silent, waiting for Dean’s next command. Dean knew this was important, knew Cas had to be able to defend himself now that the lethal part of his mojo was gone, but on the other hand… there was something irresistible about the way Cas obeyed him without thinking, to a flawless execution. The way he blindly trusted Dean to position his hands in the right way.

Cas glanced back at him, a flash of steely blue, and Dean felt his pulse ricochet through the roof.

“You’re too good at this,” Dean murmured behind him, nibbling at the back of his neck. Cas let out a surprised sigh. “I think we need to test how well you can shoot with distractions.” Cas stiffened and gave a resolute nod. A smirk played on the corner of Dean’s mouth as the next song started up.

 _Step inside, walk this way_  
_You and me babe, Hey, hey!_  
  
_Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on_  
_Livin' like a lover with a radar phone_  
_Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp_  
_Demolition woman, can I be your man?_  
_Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light_  
_Television lover, baby, go all night_  
_Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet_  
_Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah_

He removed his hands from Cas’ and trailed them instead over the angel’s chest. Cas’ lips twitched as Dean’s fingers brushed over his nipples through the flimsy material of his white button-up. Dean circled his fingers over the fabric-covered nubs until they were hard and standing to attention. Cas’ expression remained stoic. “Shoot,” Dean said.

The shot rang out and struck once more in the center of the bullseye. Slightly miffed, Dean trailed his hands down and up under Cas’ shirt, tracing over the bare skin of his stomach. He felt the curves of Cas’ lean muscles, up, up, counting each one of his ribs and dipping the pads of his fingers into the hollows between them. Cas’ eyes had half-fallen closed, but they shot open when Dean pinched his right nipple. Dean let out a low laugh and gave the same treatment to the other bud of flesh. Cas set his jaw as Dean touched his nipples, feather-light, teasing. “Shoot,” Dean murmured again, and watched as the bullet made a hole just to the left of center. “Not bad, Cas. But I’m only just getting started,” he said, his voice a low promise.

He made quick work of unbuttoning Cas’ shirt and letting it fall open, tugging gently on the haphazard blue tie once. He skimmed over Cas’ torso before starting in on Cas’ back in earnest, massaging the muscles there. Cas let out a half cut off groan. Dean took him apart methodically, working up to his shoulder-blades, where he pressed open-mouthed, wet kisses through his shirt. Cas’ hand twitched on the gun. “You OK?” Dean asked, serious for a moment. The last thing he wanted was to get his head blown off while giving Cas a killer massage.

Cas said wryly, “We’re only just getting started.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean went back to kneading Cas’ shoulder muscles. His jeans were far too tight by now, every minute sign of Cas losing control making him harder. He pulled the collar of the shirt down so he could suck a bruise on the back of Cas’ neck, gently biting down on the muscle there. Cas hissed sharply. Dean rocked his hips against Cas, his erection pressing up against Cas’ ass. “Shoot.” Came the command again.

The bullet landed just outside of the bullseye circle, and Dean smirked, altogether too pleased with himself. Cas canted his hips back, cheeks pressing firmly through their layers of clothing against Dean’s dick. Dean growled, and disentangled himself from Cas for a moment. Cas wasn’t nearly distracted enough. “Don’t turn around,” he ordered, making sure Cas could hear each individual snap popping open on his shirt and then the slow drag of his zipper as he stripped. Cas stayed frozen in the same position as Dean shucked off all of his clothes and took the time to neatly fold them before placing them on the table. Dean walked slowly back to him, his cock curving up to his stomach. He wasn’t as hard as he could be, not yet, but just watching Cas standing there, waiting for him, it made his penis twitch and his heartbeat thrum in his throat.

He wrapped his arms around Cas, draping his naked body around the angel. A choked whimper escaped Cas’ tightly pressed lips as Dean thrust against the fabric of his dress pants. “Shoot,” Dean said, caressing Cas’ nipples once more.

Second circle outside the bullseye. Now they were getting somewhere.

 _Hey!_  
_C'mon, take a bottle, shake it up_  
_Break the bubble, break it up_  
  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh, in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_C'mon, fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Oh, I can't get enough_

Dean was throbbing by the time he decided they needed to up the ante. Him coming against Cas’ pants wouldn’t do. He wanted Cas to completely lose it first. He only dimly remembered the excuse about making sure Cas could aim under distractions; it had all become a game. He knelt down and crawled in front of Cas, staring up at the angel from the floor. Cas bit his lip, eyes darting down to where Dean’s dick was red and heavy between his legs. “Eyes on the target,” Dean instructed before slowly, _slowly_ , opening Cas’ belt and unzipping his pants. The front of the black dress-pants fell open, exposing a sliver of Cas’ black boxers. (Dean had insisted that only virgins wore white ones, and that had been the start of a rather odd trip to the mall.)  Dean licked his lips as he saw that Cas was already obscenely hard, a spot of pre-come staining the front of his tented boxers.

He ran one finger along the length of Cas’ erection, watching Cas’ hips tremble as he tried to keep still. He palmed Cas’ dick, keeping his hand perfectly still, applying just a touch of pressure while he ordered, “Shoot.”

Cas glared down at him, his gaze sweeping hot over Dean’s naked form before he took his shot. Dean craned his neck and cursed when he saw that the shot had landed in the bullseye once again. He mouthed Cas’ cock, soaking the thin material of his boxers. Cas’ dick twitched at the touch, and Dean reached up, pulling Cas’ pants and boxers down in one fell swoop. The angel’s dick sprung up, leaking and coming to rest at his stomach. Dean ran his thumbs over Cas’ pale, muscular thighs, pressing down with a thumbnail to leave a white, crescent mark. Cas inhaled sharply above him, and Dean smiled, both hands coming around the cup his ass-cheeks, massaging them with his fingers. Dean leaned in and flicked his tongue against the head of Cas’ cock. Flick. Flick. Swipe.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, voice a mix of exasperation and desperation.

“I’m not going to let you come until you’ve hit the target dead-center while your cock’s down my throat,” Dean said in a matter-of-fact voice. He was rather surprised by how easily the words came, given that he’d had no conscious plan of the sort before this moment and that he’d never really done dirty talk with Cas.

Cas growled and shot at the target. Dean didn’t bother to check where it landed, instead, he occupied himself with licking a finger until it was dripping with spit and then pressing it against Cas’ hole. Cas moaned. Dean didn’t push the finger in, he just rubbed it gently around in a circle, letting the blunt tip of his finger rest on the pucker of flesh. Then he wrapped his lips around the head of Cas’ cock.

 _I'm hot, sticky sweet_  
_From my head to my feet, yeah_  
  
_Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!_  
_Crazy little woman in a one man show_  
_Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love_  
_Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up_  
  
_You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little_  
_Tease a little more_  
_Easy operator come a knockin' on my door_  
_Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet_  
_Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah_  
_Give a little more_

Another shot rang out, and Dean pulled off to ask, “Where’d it land?”

“Third circle,” Cas reported, voice rough.

Dean sank back down again, swirling his tongue around the head of Cas’ cock and toying with the slit. He lapped up a bead of pre-come. Third circle meant it was almost off the target. Humming with satisfaction, he took Cas further down. Dean relaxed his throat until he could take all of Cas. Jesus, he never thought the ability to deep-throat would be something he was proud of, but fuck if the noises Cas couldn’t hold back were encouragement enough. He liked giving Cas pleasure and goddamnit, he liked the feel of Cas’ cock in his mouth.

“ _Dean,_ ”  Cas gasped. Dean looked up at him through his eyelashes, and saw that Cas’ hands were shaking on the gun, his jaw finally slack.

Dean nodded his head once and then bobbed up and down, putting a little more pressure on the finger on Cas’ ass-hole. Cas’ head fell back and then he snapped back to attention. He set his jaw and blinked, trying to focus on the target. Dean moaned sinfully around Cas’ dick, and he saw Cas’ eyelids flutter shut.

_Bam. Bam. Bam._

Dean pulled off, a string of saliva breaking off and hanging from his bottom lip as he turned around.

Three shots. Dead—center of the bullseye.

“I’ll be damned,” he said softly.

 _Take a bottle, shake it up_  
_Break the bubble, break it up_  
  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh, in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_C'mon fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Oh, I can't get enough_  
  
_I'm hot, sticky sweet_  
_From my head to my feet yeah_

Cas threw the gun across the room. Dean’s eyes went wide because fuck, it went off when it hit the floor. He shrank down and waited for a bullet to sink into his skin, paint the room with red. Nothing happened. Cas was staring where the gun had hit the floor, scanning the room for bulllet-holes. When nobody died, Cas shrugged and turned back to Dean. His erection was dripping pre-come, nearly purple and so damn hard.

“Dean,” Cas grit out, pulling Dean back to his knees.

Dean opened his mouth to take Cas’ cock again, and Cas’ hand wound into his hair, pulling tight. Sparks of pain flew through Dean’s scalp, making his eyes water. He didn’t care.

“Can I…” Cas breathed.

Dean groaned in response, and Cas started to fuck into Dean’s throat. He was brutal, chasing his orgasm in the wet heat of Dean’s throat. A few of his thrusts made Dean gag as Cas shoved Dean’s head down onto his cock.

Fuck, just when he thought he was the one in control, Cas went and took it away again.

Dean found he didn’t mind.

He let out a low moan and heard Cas sigh in response. Dean now shoved the waiting finger inside of Cas. Cas gasped, and Dean thought it had probably hurt, but he was giving as good as he was getting. He didn’t even get a chance to search for Cas’ sweet spot, because the second he thrust his finger inside Cas, Cas was coming down his throat, salty release spurting inside his mouth. Dean did his best to keep his lips tight, thrusting his finger in and out as Cas thrust into his mouth.

When Cas started to jerk with oversensitivity and pulled out, Dean swallowed without hesitation, just to see the look on Cas’ face. The angel sank to his knees and pulled Dean toward him roughly. “How do you want to come, Dean?” he asked breathlessly, wrapping his fingers around Dean’s dick, like they belonged there.

Dean groaned, the full heat of his arousal hitting him fully.

“Do you want to come inside me?” Cas asked, and maybe if Dean hadn’t been so lost in lust, he would have noticed the dangerous edge to Cas’ voice.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he stuttered out.

In one less-than-graceful movement, Cas straddled Dean’s legs where he knelt. He spat in his hand and slicked Dean’s cock up. Dean keened, almost losing it here and there. “I don’t wanna-” he said as he saw what Cas was planning.

“You won’t hurt me,” Cas said firmly, and then sank down.

Dean’s eyes fell closed. Cas’ tight heat enveloped him, with a little bit of drag that came from not enough lube. It probably would have hurt like hell on the other end, but it felt so _fucking good_ that he couldn’t help but thrust up. Cas was still so unbelievably tight, he thought he might explode there and then.

“You know,” Cas said conversationally, gripping Dean’s shoulder tight and starting to ride the hunter in earnest. “I can make you come over and over again.”

 _You got the peaches, I got the cream_  
_Sweet to taste, saccharine_  
_'cause I'm hot, say what, sticky sweet_  
_From my head, my head, to my feet_  
  
_Do you take sugar? one lump or two?_  
  
_Take a bottle, shake it up_  
_Break the bubble, break it up_

Dean’s eyes flew wide open. He took in the smirk that was spreading across Cas’ lips, along with the angel’s flushed cheeks and forehead shining with perspiration. “Would you like that?” Cas asked, running a finger along the underside of Dean’s jaw. “To come in me, over and over again?”

Dean couldn’t have closed his lips if he tried. Cas took advantage of that fact and kissed him once before confessing, “I’d like that. I want to feel you taking your pleasure in me.” Dean’s cock twitched where it was buried in Cas’ ass. “Again,” Cas growled,  “And again.”

That was all it took for Dean to fall over the edge, coming and shouting and fucking up into Cas and falling apart under him. Cas rode him hard and fast through it, only slowing to a halt when Dean was spent, his head leaning against Cas’ shoulder.

Cas’ shoulder was sweaty where their skin met, hot and damp. From that vantage point, Dean could see that Cas’ cock was hard again, beautiful and flush against his stomach. Cas closed his eyes for a moment, and Dean felt a tingle run through his groin. “Fuck,” he groaned, feeling himself harden even further and the want for release kick back in.

Cas sighed as he rocked back and forth on Dean’s dick. Dean could feel his own come running down the inside of Cas’ walls, onto his cock, slicking Cas’ hole. “Yes, Dean,” Cas whispered, reverence overpowering the edge to his voice that had been there before. “So good.” He said, lifting up and slamming back down. Dean moaned.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist and then, slowly, slowly, picked him up and laid him down flat on his back on the mats covering the floor. Cas’ mouth twitched into what Dean could only describe as a filthy smile as he said, “Make love to me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You want me to fuck you?”

“No,” Cas ground out, rocking his hips back on Dean’s cock. “I want you to make love to me.”

Dean was past arguing terminology, and so he thrust inside Cas, letting out a blissed out moan at how much wetter it was now, wet with his own come.

“Harder,” Cas growled, and Dean started to snap his hips into the angel, fucking him until he found his prostate, until Cas was babbling and groaning. “Dean, yes, Dean. You feel so good. Inside me. You’re all… oh… yes, fuck.” He wrapped his legs around Dean, letting Dean pound into him.

Sweat ran down Dean’s neck. He’d never get enough of this. Making love to Cas. Fucking him. Whatever. He wanted to do this every day until he died and then after that. And Dean couldn’t help it, it felt so fucking good, to know that Cas would never leave, that he’d _get_ to experience this rapture every day for the rest of his life, this sweaty, sweet heaven –

He came hard, shooting hot come inside Cas’ ass. Cas cried out and then they were coming together, lost in waves of bliss.

 _Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh, in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_C'mon fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Oh, I can't get enough_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Oh, in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Get it, come get it_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Ooh_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Yeah! Sugar me!_

They had sex for hours, until they were both panting, trembling messes and then twice more after that.

Dean fell asleep tangled under Cas, completely oblivious when the angel carried him back to their room on shaking legs. Cas cleaned them both with a hot washcloth and then slipped into bed beside Dean, curled up around him.

Dean woke up about an hour later, blinking and drawing Cas closer to him.

“What were you dreaming about?” Cas asked, tilting his head to one side. And it was so similar and yet so very different to the first time Castiel had asked him that – years ago – that all Dean could do was shake his head.

“I miss dreaming,” Cas commented, laying his head on Dean’s chest.

“Maybe we could do that Shared States spell again,” Dean said sleepily.

Cas was silent for a moment. “I could share your dreams.”

“What?”

“I… It’s a kind of mind-reading. But I could share your dreams. I never did it before because it would have been an invasion of privacy.” Cas said, his voice muffled against Dean’s skin.

Dean let out a puff of air. That was something to take in. “What the hell,” he kissed Cas on the top of the head. And if Cas happened to see that recurring dream, the one where they ran away to Vegas and got married while Can’t Help Falling In Love With You  played… well. That was that.

They dreamt of flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gives me funny feelings to think that this is the last smutty chapter I'll ever write for this fic.  
> Keep the love comin', let me know what you thought! Two chapters to go!  
> Oh, and I do not recommend that you suck off your partner while at a gun range or in proximity with lethal weapons. Although I myself would think that sounds pretty hot. ;)


	39. Can't Help Falling In Love With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't Help Falling In Love With You, by Elvis Presley  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGJTaP6anOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Twist and Shout gave you PTSD from this song. So I thought I'd reclaim it. OK by y'all? This is more or less the set-up for the next (and final, Jesus!) chapter, which I'll be posting tomorrow. Stay with me!

Sam returned a few days later, with more than a few comments about the pile of joints Cas had left on the kitchen counter and the bullet-hole in the combat dummy on the far side of the shooting range. Despite the snarky comments, Dean could tell that his brother was in a good mood. In lieu of that fact, and the way Cas had been staring wistfully out the windows at the sunny day outside all morning, Dean suggested a trip to the lake nearby. The one where he’d tried to teach Cas to fish. Sam, once dragged out of his book, agreed, and Cas flopped into the back seat without a word. Dean packed their gear – the fishing rods he’d found in the Men of Letter’s basement, various types of bait from the fishing-and-gun store forty minutes away, Cas’ polaroid camera and guitar (hey, Dean figured he wouldn’t be fishing), folding chairs, and a bottle of sunscreen. Not that he really planned on using that – after so many scars, he figured his skin ought to be tough enough to stand a day in the sun.

He drove off humming, watching Cas in the rearview mirror. Cas had his nose pressed to the glass, eagerly taking in the familiar view. As a result, Dean’s driving was slightly subpar, and he swerved over the white line in the middle of the road more times than he cared to count. Luckily, the road was pretty empty, and Sam said all he needed to with a satisfied smirk.

It was about noon by the time they arrived. Sam and Dean set about unpacking the gear, setting the fishing rods up just so and untangling the lines. Sam slathered himself in sunscreen and forced Dean to do the same. “Do you really want to get skin cancer, Dean?”

A well timed, “Your brother is right,” from Cas was all it took for Dean to purse his lips and reluctantly obey.

Cas leaned comfortably against the Impala as the two brothers set everything up, leaving matters in the hands of those more experienced than him.

“You gonna fish, Cas?” Sam asked, reclining in the largest of the chairs.

Cas shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s beyond me.” He neglected to sit in the third chair, and opted instead to sit on the pebbles by Dean’s feet.

“Cas?” Dean asked, a little confused.

“Hmm?” Cas said, picking up a pebble and holding it to the light.

“Chair?”

“That’s not a chair. It’s a contraption of canvas and metal poles.”

“Right,” Dean said, and cast his fishing rod out.

After about half an hour of fishing, Sam catching one but letting it go when he saw that it was some endangered species, Dean two beers down and many more to go, Cas stopped counting pebbles and stood. “I thought I might swim,” he said, gaze flickering over Dean briefly.

“Right. You coming?” Dean turned his head to Sam.

“Nah. I’m good. You two have fun,” Sam said.

Dean bit back his initial response of _Oh, we will,_ and took off his t-shirt. He briefly wished he’d brought swimming trunks, but kicked off his shoes and decided his shorts would do fine.

Cas had no such qualms and when Dean caught up with him, he was standing waist-deep in the calm waters, still fully clothed.

“Cas,” Dean said in between bouts of laughter, “I thought we got this the first time around. Clothes and water don’t mix.”

Cas’ eyes flickered over Dean’s bare chest, and when they met his own, the angel’s expression was mild. “I don’t see why not.”

And Dean didn’t argue, because to Cas, defying innumerable human traditions was just as simple as that – _I don’t see why not._ Most of the time, Dean didn’t have a good reason for the _why not_. He walked through the water until he was nearly side by side with Cas, and then brought his hand up sharply, sending a wave of water crashing into Cas’ face and chest.

Cas stood for a moment, stock still with surprise, water soaking through his blue shirt. Then his eyes blazed with mock-fury and he lunged for Dean, knocking him down and into the water. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he was bowled over and under, and they tangled together. Then Cas jerked him back up by the collar of his shirt, and he spluttered, laughing. Cas’ initial expression of concern shifted and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. Dean pretended not to even notice the clunky shutter of the Polaroid being pressed from where Sam sat on the shore. Instead, he reached out for Cas’ hand and pulled him closer, meeting him for a quick kiss. He tasted, unsurprisingly, like lake water.

Dean pulled away when Sam started cheering, and shot his brother a filthy look.

Cas walked deeper into the water until it lapped at his collarbone. Dean followed a little more slowly, but eventually he stood by Cas’ side. “You know, I’d say you’re using the word ‘swimming’ a little loosely,” Dean said into the silence.

Cas jumped as if he hadn’t realized Dean was behind him. Then he resumed his surveying of the lake. “Apologies. I like standing here – I feel like I’m part of the lake. I can think.”

Dean chewed on that for a moment. He ran a finger through the water, watching the waves it created in its wake. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I already have one,” Cas pointed out, his fingers coming to rest against the lucky penny Dean had given him. “And it has the Enochian sigil for protection carved in the back, by the way. Which makes it more useful than other pennies you might offer me.”

“Jesus, Cas.”

Cas smiled a little. “I was thinking,” he began. “About humans.” The silence stretched on. “Their lives are so brief, so fleeting – and yet they seek a connection between themselves. And though they will die, they believe this connection to be permanent, they _need_ to believe that it will endure after themselves. In some cases, like soulmates, their connection will remain even in heaven… but it occurred to me as strange that such transient creatures should desire something so permanent.”

Dean swallowed. Cas had become remote, isolated in his thoughts, and Dean wanted to bring him back. Have Cas be a part of him instead of the lake. “Maybe we want that _because_ we know we’ll die some day.”

Cas blinked, and turned to Dean. “Yes,” he said, running a damp thumb over the corner of Dean’s mouth. “Of course.” Then he was walking back toward the shore, clothes and hair dripping, shouting back to Dean, “Come.”

Dean frowned, wondering if he might get whiplash from Cas’ moods today, but he followed nonetheless.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam’s voice drifted to him as he walked closer, the warm water now hugging the insides of his thighs. “How come the film in your camera never runs out? I was sure we would’ve had to get now by more.”

Cas slammed the Impala trunk, clothes already magically dried, and confessed sheepishly, “I transmuted the molecules in regular paper to make more.”

When Dean reached the shore, Cas was already sprawled back on the pebbles, guitar resting comfortably on his thigh. Dean stood there, water flowing through his toes while Cas began picking out an arpeggio pattern. He really had gotten pretty good at playing. Cas looked straight up at him, a determined set to his jaw and an expression that made it seem like they were the only two there, before he began to sing.

“ _Wise men say only fools rush in_

_But I can’t help falling in love with you._

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

_If I can’t help falling in love with you.”_

Dean’s heart thudded in his chest as he stared at Cas, this _fallen angel_ , sitting in front of him, singing Elvis. It felt just as real as it seemed unbelievable. But no matter how it felt or how it seemed – it just was.

Cas finished the song, his darkly deep voice twisting on the final note. He stared at Dean for a moment and then pressed his palm to the ringing guitar strings, silencing them. Sam let out a whistle of appreciation, but all Dean could do was dumbly stare. In that moment, Elvis Presley seemed like he had read into Dean’s soul.

A thought sparked in the back of his mind. Cas was singing I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You. Because he liked the song, or because during their shared dream last night, he had somehow come across that certain recurring dream? Did Cas know Dean had (frankly, ridiculous) dreams about getting them hitched in Vegas? If he did, why hadn’t he said anything?

Cas stood, the neck of the guitar clasped in one hand. “I should, ah, I should go home.”

 _Home,_ Dean thought. _Not back to the bunker, but home._ Then what Cas was saying caught up to him, and he said, “Wait, what?”

“Yes, I – I’ve counted all the pebbles here,” Cas said lamely, gesturing with his free hand. Dean eyed the vast expanse of pebbles that Cas clearly had not counted. “And I promised Claire I would call.”

Dean privately thought Claire was too caught up in her haughty world of being a teenager to be concerned about talking to Cas, but he was more concerned with how immediately shifty Cas was acting. Cas was a terrible liar. When he wasn’t planning world domination and massive betrayals. He winced slightly, glad that they were very much past that now. “Come on, you’ve been wanting to go out all morning,” Dean said.

“Give the guy a break,” Sam piped up.

Dean pursed his lips, feeling as though he was being ganged up on for no apparent reason. “All right,” he said, waving a hand, and saw Cas’ face relax instantly. “C’mere,” he said, angling for a hug, but Cas walked into his arms and kissed him. It was somewhat more of a heated kiss than he’d expected in front of his brother, with Cas’ tongue darting in between his lips. Cas kissed him like he couldn’t bear to drag himself away, despite his claims. Dean was left confused but pleasantly buzzing when Cas disappeared into thin air.

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea_

_Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

“You know he’s been practicing that song all this time,” Sam said, gazing proudly at the space where Cas had vanished.

Dean gave a noncommittal grunt and tried to hide his smile.

The brothers fished for a few more hours, until it grew dark. They decimated the two six-packs Dean had picked up and occasionally spoke. “So, you spent a week getting fucked rotten,” Dean remarked casually.

Sam looked at him, sniffed and then said indignantly, “So did you.”

Dean rubbed self-consciously at the hickey on his throat. He could never quite bear to tell Cas not to leave marks. The air was cool on the back of his neck, and thick with the smell of summer. “So, things with Eileen are good, then?”

“Yeah.” Sam said, smiling down at the fishing rod in his hands. “I’m not gonna lie, it was rocky going for a while – trust issues on both sides, you know? But we’ve worked something out. And it’s definitely not something conventional, or normal, or whatever I thought I wanted – but that never worked before. And I think this something’s a good something, you know?”

Dean nodded slowly. “That I do.” Falling in love with an angel kind of removed your expectations for everybody else’s relationships.

“And, uh, you and Cas?” Sam asked after a pause. “You guys are good?” The question sounded a little forced, like he’d almost forgotten to ask it, but Dean was too buzzed to notice.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice embarrassingly thick with emotion, and the conversation stopped there.

They packed up their gear and climbed into their respective seats. They hadn’t actually caught anything – at least, nothing which was big enough to merit cooking or not on an endangered species list – but Dean didn’t mind. It was more about the fishing than the actual fish.

He drove down the deserted road and was just turning left, towards the bunker and away from the lights of the nearby town, when Sam said, “Hey, uh, could you drop me off at the bar?”

Dean’s brow furrowed, but he hooked a right and they swerved onto the junction. “The bar?” he asked.

“Yeah. The bartender there was telling me about something that sounded like a haunting up near Topeka. Might as well check it out now, right?” Sam babbled.

“You want me to come with?”

“Nah, you should get back home. Get some shut-eye.” There was a fond edge to Sam’s tone that made the suggestion sound more like _curl up next to Cas like a goddamn kitten._ Dean rolled his eyes.

“All right. How you gonna get home, though?” Dean asked, pulling up along the sidewalk by the bar.

“I’ll walk,” Sam said, already out the door.

“It’s like ten miles!” Dean protested as Sam poked his head back inside.

“Yeah. I ran it the other day.” Sam said, and slammed the door with a final chorus of, “You, uh, you have a good night.”

Dean frowned, and instead of immediately driving away, he made a circle round the block. When he came around, Sam wasn’t inside the bar at all, but sitting in the red payphone booth near where Dean had dropped him off. Dean could just make out him saying, “Hey, Eileen. Yeah, I know it’s been two days. Something just made me think of you…” Rolling his eyes, Dean gunned the engine and headed for the road home. Back to Cas.

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea_

_Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I smothered you in a little fluff here :)  
> Final chapter up tomorrow! I know, I know, part of me doesn't want it to end either, but some things are meant to be. Stay tuned, my lovely readers!


	40. Learning To Fly (Once More, With Feeling)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning to Fly, by Pink Floyd (Not the Tom Petty one from the beginning! This one is profound in a whole 'nother way.)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCB_INs2E24

He walked up to the Bunker door, and stared for a brief moment at the roses which had sprung up around it. They hadn’t been there this morning. He didn’t pay them much attention then – although in the years to come, he watched Cas water them every morning – because Cas wasn’t waiting for him when he opened the door.

As he it behind him, he heard music start up, soft drums coming through the walls. He started off for the Cassette Room without a second thought. His footsteps echoed on the hallway floor, and a gentle smile spread across his lips in the dim light at the thought maybe Castiel was waiting for him after all. A joking, ‘ _Angel, I’m home,’_ died on his lips when he walked through the doorway.

Cas was standing in front of the window pacing, profile silhouetted by moonlight from outside. When he heard Dean, he turned to face him with a slow, sure smile. Only the slightest twitches in his expression hinted at – was that _nervousness?_ “Dean,” he said warmly, and the sound of his voice ignited something deep inside of Dean.

Dean strode forward to meet the angel, cupped his face in both hands and crushed their lips together. Somehow their afternoon of separation felt, in that moment, like years. The press of their bodies together was sweet as Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulled him closer. A flash of blue out of the corner of his half-closed eyes notified Dean that Cas was wearing the leather jacket Dean had given him. “Hey, Cas,” Dean murmured, pulling away slightly to stroke Cas’ cheek.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said, and with that, he dropped to one knee.

_Into the distance, a ribbon of black_

_Stretched to the point of no turning back_

_A flight of fancy on a windswept field_

_Standing alone, my senses reeled_

Dean stared down at him, the stillness around them seeming to ring as he waited for the impending realization to crash down. Cas looked steadily back up at him, blue eyes practically glowing in the dark room.

“I… trust I’m doing this correctly,” Cas said. A pause. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. About how, it seems almost laughable, to be bonded together as we are, grace and soul, and this final, mortal custom dictates that we’re apart. And how I want to be bonded with you in every conceivable way. I also thought about how it seemed, as traditions go, a beautiful one, even if it did have its origins in considering women as property…” Cas trailed off, and then steeled himself. “And I believe this is the part where I ask you to marry me.”

Dean’s jaw dropped, and he couldn’t say anything. Didn’t even want to say anything. He just wanted this moment to stretch on into eternity, a marker of how far they’d come, and for what they’d fought for. He wanted to stare at Cas’ hopeful, shining face forever, listening to Pink Floyd on repeat until doomsday.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I think you’re meant to say some-”

Dean fell to his knees in front of Cas and cupped his hands fiercely on either side of the angel’s face, because _oh, oh, oh._ Right. He’d probably want an answer. And so before the ringing had quieted, before the surprise had died down, before he had fully processed the magnitude of fucking everything –

“Yes,” he growled, kissing Cas like a drowning man might gasp for air. “Fucking yes,” he whispered into the space between Cas’ parted lips. _Yes,_ the swipe of his tongue screamed. _Please,_ begged his fingers as they scrabbled for purchase, for something solid to hang onto, to prove it was real. _God yes,_ he thought as Cas moaned against his lips. And their foreheads pressed together when they broke apart murmured _finally._

_A fatal attraction was holding me fast_

_How can I escape its irresistible grasp?_

_Can’t keep my eyes from the circling sky_

_Tongue tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I._

Cas swayed slightly against him, hands coming to grasp at Dean’s wrists, holding him tightly. Which was just as well, because Dean felt like he might fall down at the touch of a feather. “You know, I’m aware this won’t be easy.” Cas said. “Things rarely are.”

Dean blinked. “Jeez Cas, way to kill the mood.”

“My point,” Cas continued as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “Is that we have endured the worst, you and I. We’ve been brutally tortured, fought bloody wars, doubted our own strength- and saved each other.” Dean was fighting to make another sarcastic comment, but he knew Cas was only speaking his mind. He felt pinpricks at the back of his eyeballs, tears threatening to spring loose. “In that past year, you’ve also taught me about humanity. That the greatest challenges do not always come with black eyes.”

“You rehearse this or something?” Dean asked weakly.

Cas smiled a little at that. “I must confess that I did. Dean, you taught me that life is a series of ups and downs, but that we will – and deserve to – come out on the other side. Perhaps not unscathed or unchanged, but together.” Dean grit his teeth at the sheer sentimentality, the big words and the weighty  statements of it all – but inside, it warmed him, too. This was Cas talking from the depths of his heart, and he loved Cas, and though his monologues were hella long sometimes, he’d always listen. Cas looked up into his eyes, and hesitated before saying, “I am aware that this endeavor may have unforseen consequences and trials.” Dean opened his mouth to say something to break the seriousness of it all, anything, but Cas cut him off. “This is just another way we will have to learn to fly.”

_Ice is warming on the tips of my wings_

_Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything_

_No navigator to guide my way home_

_Unladen, empty, and turned to stone_

Dean smiled, and the tears were free now, rolling, rolling.

“You know, I listened to the Tom Petty song before I went to heaven. It was beautiful, Dean. To think that when you spoke to me that day in the woods, I didn’t know what you were talking about,” he laughed a little. “I heard this song-” he gestured around, and Dean grinned. He loved this song. When he’d been hunting alone and hadn’t had enough money for a motel room, he’d had to sleep in the Impala. He’d fallen asleep to this song most nights. “It was on the radio in a Gas ‘n’ Sip while we were on a hunt a while back. It just _spoke_ to me.” Dean thought if he smiled any harder, his face might split apart. “And it made me think of you. Of our journeys.”

“I fucking love you,” Dean cut him short and once again closed the distance between them, seeking the cool, full press of Cas’ lips. Cas gave in easily and sighed, winding his fingers through Dean’s hair.

_A soul in tension that’s learning to fly_

_Condition grounded but determined to try_

_Can’t keep my eyes from the circling skies_

_Tongue tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I._

“Dean,” Cas broke away, a little breathless. “I didn’t finish. And I believe it’s customary to have an exchange of rings.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, letting it wash over him.

Cas kissed his eyelids gently and said in a low voice, “Dean, this is my way of promising you. Forever.” When Dean opened his eyes, Cas was holding two black metal rings, a little scuffed up around the edges.

“I got them from an antique pawn shop, but it was operated by white witches,” Cas admitted. “They’re beat-up, but magically unbreakable. I thought that might be useful given-”

“I love them,” Dean said, reaching out to touch one of them and then pausing, hand hanging in midair. “They’ve got Winchester charm,” he said jokingly, and then looked up at Cas. “You know, you don’t have a last name.”

 Cas’ lips twitched, but instead of commenting, he slid one of the two rings onto Dean’s finger. Dean watched it with a fierce happiness kindling inside. “I think that means you’re going to have to take mine.”

Cas looked up at him, and Dean saw he wasn’t the only one crying. “I’d be honored,” Cas said. With that, Dean took the ring which still rested in the palm of Cas’ hand, and pressed it onto his ring finger. Cas grinned and wiped a single finger across Dean’s cheek. He collected a tear that was about to fall and lifted it up to the light, studying it like it was a piece of heaven.

_Above the planet, on a wing and a prayer_

_My grubby halo, a vapor trail in the empty air_

_Across the clouds I see my shadow fly_

_Out of the corner of my watering eye_

_A dream unthreatened by the morning light_

_Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night_

“Sam assured me many times you would say yes,” Cas said into the stillness. “But I knew anyway.”

“Smug bastard,” Dean muttered, planting a kiss on Cas’ forehead.

“I suppose so,” Cas said. “I like to think that, even back in that barn, I knew that there was something between us, something different. Even before I knew its name.”

“Who gives a damn whether we knew then or not,” Dean said. “We know now.” After a moment, he said, “Sam knew about this?”

“He was my confidante,” Cas admitted.

No wonder Sam had been acting so weird. “I’m glad we have you, Cas,” Dean said. “Glad I have you,” he added, running a finger under Cas’ Adam’s apple to feel it bob. “And I promise you, that every day until I die, I will love you, and we’ll learn how this whole life thing works together, and every night, I’ll-” he leaned forward and whispered in Cas’ ear.

“I think you just found your wedding vow,” Cas murmured, a tad more reverentially than Dean might have expected given the filthy jist of what he’d just said.

“You can count on it,” he answered with a grin.

“There’s one more thing,” Cas said. His fingers curled on Dean’s shoulder, resting above where his handprint lay. “Your body is marked as mine with a piece of my grace.” Dean gazed into his eyes, shaken by the naked honesty that lay there. “I want you to mark mine.”

Dean frowned, but before he could stop to ask about logistics, Cas was lifting Dean’s hand to his chest. Over his heart. _Cheesy sonofabitch,_ he wanted to say, but the words didn’t quite make the cut. He flattened his palm, feeling the soft thumping he’d grown to need to hear at night. Cas’ eyes flashed blue, and Dean felt a jolt of electricity run through his arm, something wild and untamed. Light swirled around them and he felt Cas’ skin burn like fire.

When it was done, he pulled away and stared. The white scar of his hand rested across Cas’ chest. Cas looked down at it with something resembling awe.

“I hurt you,” Dean said, his fingers lifting to trace along the scar.

“Don’t be sorry for this, Dean. Never be sorry for this. We’ve changed each other, you and I. And this is a mark that we belong together.”

Dean stared up at him steadily. “It’s my promise.” Already, it was starting to seem like the scar belonged on Cas’ skin.

_There’s no sensation to compare with this_

_Suspended animation, state of bliss_

_Can’t keep my mind from the circling skies_

_Tongue tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I._

They stayed there until the sun started to rise, tears shining on their faces, half-tangled together, the silence punctuated only by soft kisses and sighs. Cas said as the morning light began to fill the room, “This is what flying feels like.” He broke into a smile.

Dean led him wordlessly down the hallway and into their bedroom. “Yeah,” he whispered as he sealed their promises with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank each and every one of you for sticking with me through this journey! Even if I haven't replied to your reviews, I've read them all, and they've made my day and encouraged me, so many times. If you've been reading up til now, I'd love to hear what you thought of the story and of the ending.   
> If people really want it, I'd add an epilogue, but I feel like it ties in better with the beginning this way. It's made me so happy to be able to spin a story for y'all. I'm sad to end this, but also so very happy I wrote it.  
> Thank you for your feedback, your song recs and your fellow fangirl-ship. *Salutes*  
> ~BadassCompany  
> P.S. I'm working on a series of smutty one-shots working within canon - essentially, all the times Cas and Dean have sex. Subscribe to my author page if you want updates. ;)


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